


Fire Without a Spark

by FadedSepia



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Awkard Pidge, Disaster Babies, Exasperated Hunk, F/M, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pidge cursing, Self-doubting Lance, Shifting perspective, Socially adept Keith, plance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-05-25 05:13:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 19,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14969834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FadedSepia/pseuds/FadedSepia
Summary: The first day she’d met him, Pidge hadknownthat Lance McClain was going to find a way to screw up everything important to her. Even before he'd known shewasa she, Lance had liked pretty much everything about Pidge Gunderson. And Hunk could only agree that‘rolling dumpster fire’was a pretty good description of what he saw happening with his two best friends.A series of fics, from multiple perspectives, chronicling the budding relationship between two human disasters, and the lengths to which their friends go to minimize the carnage.





	1. Nothing But Tired

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KravenErgeist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KravenErgeist/gifts).



> This was started as a cute little one-shot birthday gift for @kravenergeist over on tumblr. That was months ago, and the whole one-shot thing just did not happen, but... Here it is!
> 
> Enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pidge is just fine with the way things are right now. Yup. _Just_ fine...

The first day she’d met him, Pidge had _known_ that Lance McClain was going to find a way to screw up everything important to her. Sure, he was friendly and carefree. He hadn't complained when they were teamed up. He'd shaken her hand and even taken her at her word that, yes, _Pidge Gunderson_ was a perfectly good name, but that didn't matter.

Lance was prodding and pushy, and he was constantly poking his nose into her much-more-important-than-his-skinny-ass business. He was loud and argumentative, and he'd all but dragged her into the tiny social circle occupied by himself and their team engineer. And maybe that wasn't _all_ bad; Hunk was brilliant and good company, and Lance was certainly not the _worst_ pilot to be stuck with. Still, he had very few actual good points at first glance. He was obnoxious. He was grating. He was a perpetual wrinkle in her otherwise fairly smooth plan, and he was _so_ distracting. Horribly, disgustingly, adorably distracting.

The way he insisted on taking a full _hour_ to get ready every morning: Distracting. His habit of humming to himself when he studied, tapping his stylus along to whatever beat was in his head: Distracting. The little wrinkle that scrunched up the bridge of his nose when he was nervous: So, so very distracting. Pidge only knew as much as she did because she'd been able to tune out the distractions, and she just... Could. Not. Tune out. Lance.

He was always forcing himself into her routine, whether that meant doing things that resulted in rearranging her schedule or literally, _physically_ , pushing himself up into her space. Admittedly, she spent most of her non-class time in his and Hunk's room. She _had_ no choice since they were teammates, with Hunk one of the few people in the entire program with whom she could actually hold a meaningful conversation. Sure, there were times when she'd nod off leaning against Hunk's back when they were bent over their laptops. There were the occasional sleepovers that found her dozing with feet in one of their laps or waking in a puddle of drool from a nap on one of the guys' shoulders. It happened. But the lanky loudmouth was a damned limpet by comparison.

He was _impossible_ to pry off, even just to give her the distance to mentally exhale. She knew he'd grown up in a big family – figured that might be part of the reason he was always so keen on some sort of contact – but he needed to learn to interact like a _normal_ person with at least _some_ boundaries. That entire year at the garrison, he had been a jabbering whirlwind of teasing, poking, laughing, flirting, yammering distraction. He couldn't even shut up long enough for them to get launched across the universe to fight an intergalactic war, for fuck's sake.

But it was different, now. Not that it wasn't constant, loud, and riddled with bad lines and innuendo. Those were all still guaranteed aspects of anyone's interaction with the blue paladin. No, Lance was still Lance-like, just... Not to her. He still breezed into the room like it was his job to cause a scene wherever he went. He still flirted with every _being_ he met like he was God's gift to anything with a pulse and a libido. He argued, he flopped, he pulled faces and spoke in goofy accents and danced like an idiot like he always had.

It just wasn't the same because he so rarely did any of that with _her_. Near her, or to people around her? Yes, of course.  But actually involving her? Directed _just_ at her? Nope, hardly ever. If she was the object of his attention – whether the butt of his jokes or the source of his ire – it was only because she was lumped in with someone else. He was angry at her _and_ Hunk, or he was making short jokes about her _and_ Keith, or he was whining about the perils of being so beautiful to her _and_ Shiro and Allura. And that last one had been under the assumption that Pidge wouldn't understand the way the other two would, so... He only paid attention her to say she looked bad? Great. The most annoying guy she'd ever met had gone from treating her like a weird and shiny toy, exciting on its own, to that annoying freebie that came along with the shit you _really_ wanted...

And the worst part was that she actually _cared_. Lance was singling her out, even if – especially for him – he was being subtle about it, and she actually gave a shit. He paid more attention to Keith – a man he professed to absolutely _loathe_ , and whom he mocked at every turn – than he did to her. He'd been his usual self with an eight-armed, sentient, chicken-headed pool-noodle and a knock-off, unintelligible, interdimensional Shiro. He'd even tried to get along with every Blade that had _ever_ been on their ship, even though each made it no secret that they basically _hated_ him for everything that he was.

At first, she'd thought maybe he was just being weird because he was in shock. After all, it was basically his fault that their lives had been disrupted overnight. Yes, Shiro had crashed his ship, and Keith had driven them into the desert, and she and Hunk had actually _found_ Blue. But still, it had been Lance at the helm, so of course he'd feel guilty about it. Maybe it was living in an alien space castle, with hosts that were basically shapeshifting space elves. Maybe it was eating food that looked like toothpaste and tasted like shrimp chips and banana pudding. Maybe it was spending the afternoons lounging at the edge of a pool that had effectively tried to kill him. Whatever the reason, she’d been sure it would pass; sooner, rather than later, Lance would go right back to being a pain in her ass, just like always.

But over the days and weeks and months of life as paladins of Voltron, things had never really gone back to normal. He'd stayed close to Hunk and learned to work with Keith. He'd gotten over being star-struck every time Shiro walked in the room, developed a clearly pun-based friendship with Coran, and eventually adopted Allura as some kind of long-lost space sister. But that itchy distance was still clearly there, at least to her, any time she was around him, and she had no idea what to do about it.

Of course, she'd tried _not_ to care. She'd tried not to miss the looks and the casual touching. It hadn't worked, no matter how much effort she expended. To make matters worse, Pidge couldn’t help fixating on it since she was really unaccustomed to failure. Which just made her fixate on it more. Which only made her think about Lance _not_ thinking about her. Circular thought at its best. Woop-dee-friggen-doo.

As far as Lance was concerned, she was basically the human equivalent of the sad purple jellybeans piled in the bottom of the candy bowl. The ones left once all the _good_ flavours were gone. Those were always her favourite, but nobody else seemed to want _them_ , either. They just sat around, ignored, until they got too stale and grody for anyone to even consider them edible, and then got tossed out when no one was looking. Pidge wondered if Lance liked purple jelly beans. Or green, even. Or... Quiznak! It was his problem, not hers!

She rolled over in her bunk, tapping Rover's head to cycle him through nightlight mode. The little bot blinked happily through its assortment of soft colours, and she settled on a warm yellow-green. Once, when she had first configured the options, her nightlight had been a very dim baby blue. Then, for nearly a year, it had been a pinkish red. Then she'd switched it back to blue, again. Then she'd put two and blue together, realized she had a _serious_ problem, and disabled those colour options unless Rover was using them as signal lights. Nothing wrong with that, right? Right.

And she hadn't had any problems since, either. Nope. Not her. That's why she was lying awake in bed, three vargas past lights out, having a conversation in her head with no one. That was what normal, fine people did, wasn't it? Especially when they were trapped in emotional space purgatory. Nothing weird about this _at all_. She was just going to curl into her pillow nest, cuddle up with her pack of fluffy trash bugs, and go to sleep. Because she was fine, now. Absolutely fine. Not blue at all. Nope.


	2. This Laugh’s On Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance is perfectly happy to be Pidge's friend... right?

Even before he'd know she _was_ a she, Lance had liked pretty much everything about Pidge Gunderson. The way Pidge always smelled like static guard and ozone, with just a hint of coffee breath. The snuffly, wheezing snorts that woke him up every time Team Punk pulled an all-nighter and their tiniest squad-mate slept in his desk chair. The way he'd find corrections on his coursework in green pen, usually accompanied by meme-based doodles, in the barely legible hand of the navigator-in-training. Even the way that disastrous mess of brown hair would flit - left-right-left - scanning to make sure no one was watching before those hands slipped from oversized sleeves and lifted a plate to be licked clean.

Pidge was one of the smartest, grossest, most eccentric people to ever literally wander up a hallway and into Lance McClain's life. He'd never met anyone else who could out argue him, out shout him, out awkward him, and still manage to be the cutest thing to ever don a pair of green high tops. Of all the people he knew, Pidge was near the top of the list for people he wanted to get closer to. To be important to. To pilot giant, transforming, semi-sentient robot space cats with. Admittedly, that last one was a very short list, but, still, Pidge was up there.

Which was why he'd been, well, devastated when Pidge had outed herself _as a her_. Not because he cared that she was a – gross, loud, eccentric – _girl_. She was still the same Pidge, with the same snores, and the same lingering scents, and the same bad table manners. Not because she was younger than he was and _still_ better at everything except piloting and some of the very physical team stuff. That was pretty much how things had been back at the Garrison, anyway. Not even because she was better friends with the mice when he was the one that fed them from his own plate. Honestly, the mice were cute, and Pidge was cuter, so it was a win-win watching them be cute together.

No, what crushed Lance was that Pidge hadn't trusted him enough to tell him. Hunk – best friends with Lance since year one – Garret knew. Shiro – rhymes with hero, every pilot wants to be me – Shirogane knew. Keith – I’m a knife-wielding nutjob, I live in the desert and have a mullet on _purpose_ , and also I’m part purple alien cat-man – Kogane knew. Princess – I've been on ice for ten-thousand years and live in a flying space castle – Allura knew.  Even Coran Hieronymus Wimbleton – I have too many names, but, c’mon lad, didn’t you always _want_ a crazy Space-Kiwi for an uncle – Smythe knew!

And where was Lance – Pidge’s good buddy and garrison crew pilot – McClain in all of this? Crushing on his second-best dude-buddy who turned out to be his best chick-buddy and didn't consider him enough of a _real_ buddy to even drop him a hint.

How was he supposed to recover from that? ‘ _Hey, Pidge, I really wanted to pick you up and hold you in my lap and kiss your stupid-smug face back at the garrison, so can I do that here?’_ Yeah, right, nope. He didn't snuggle people that didn't trust him. It was rude, and pushy, and Lance was... Okay, so he could be both, but he wasn't ever an asshole on _purpose_.

So he'd pushed his panicked reaction into something funny, flailed a little, made a fool of himself. Everybody laughs, Pidge rolls her eyes, end scene.

Who cared if he'd thrown himself into bed, not even bothering with his sleep mask, and shoved face first into the pillow? If he had thumbed through his phone, doubting himself for finding hope in every smiling picture taken at the garrison? If he bit his lip until it almost bruised, and woke up with his eyes still puffy from holding in tears?

It didn't matter, right? Because Pidge was still his friend. Still an integral part of their team. Still the cutest thing to ever wander into the kitchen of a ten-thousand-year-old spaceship-castle in green high tops and bed head. And with enough months of fighting the Galra, and flying with Blue, and scarfing down alien junk-food with Hunk when Coran wasn't looking, he could almost make himself believe that he was okay with just being her friend. Not her close friend, or her best friend, or her _boy_ friend. Just her friend. Sort of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day? Personal best! Hopefully more will be up by next week. If you're interested in WIPs as I do them, hop over to tumblr! (at)fadedsepiascribbles


	3. Something Happening Somewhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pidge knows just who to turn to when she needs advice. But is he sending her in circles?

“I’m glad your supply trip went well, and that you clearly missed me, but Lance isn’t here.” Hunk reached over his shoulder, patting her head, and sighed. “You don’t have to keep doing this, you know? It’s not going to make him jealous.”

From her position clinging to him, Pidge poked the back of his head. She had come to actually enjoy riding around on Hunk's back. Sure, sometimes she had to put up with a lot of crap about it, much of it from him or Keith, the latter clearly jealous that he couldn't get piggyback rides even from Shiro. Regardless, it was worth it to experience being tall. The world looked different up here, and it was exciting.

Maybe she had _started_ this – clinging to Hunk like he was a lifeline whenever they were in a public space on the ship – to get Lance's attention, but she had learned to enjoy the experience. It didn't _bother_ her that Lance didn't seem to care when she fawned over their teammate. She wasn't even a _bit_ perturbed that the blue paladin didn't demand a hug from _her_ as well. She was completely unruffled that their sniper's only real reaction, once he noticed the uneven treatment, was to pout and demand that Hunk carry _him_ bridal-style to make up for it. It seemed mope-cuddling Hunk was what she could get, and that had to be good enough. “Are you saying you wouldn’t miss it if I stopped hanging out with you?”

“You could hang _out_ with me without hanging _onto_ me." He shrugged, shifting her higher up onto his shoulder, and turned back to look at her with a sideways smile. "But, yeah, I guess. We’re a team, remember? Team Punk. So I guess I’d miss my having my side-kick around.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re the side-kick, here.” Pidge reached up to flick the edge of his ear. “You’re the Mog to my Cait Sith1, and we both know it.”

“Okay, if you’re going to say _that_ , then clearly this team is done.” Hunk swung her over his shoulder and set her down, gently, on the highest free shelf available, crammed between spare thermocouplers and a broken transfunctioner. He crossed his arms over his chest, jaw set at an angle in annoyance. “No more piggyback rides around the workshop until you start showing me some respect. You're the Yachiru2 in this friendship, and you need to accept that."

“You can’t do that!” He was walking away, returning to the salvaged samouflange3 he _needed_ to fix on the other side of the room. And he was just leaving her here! Pidge swung herself down from the shelf, dropping to the floor almost two metres below. It wasn’t graceful, but she was able to scramble up after him. “I only came down here because I need your help. Please?”

“Huh? What was that?” The yellow paladin didn’t even bother to turn around, continuing to fidget with a few pieces of alien tech. “Were… were you talking to me? I couldn’t hear you too well from over here in _sidekick_ land.”

“Hunk…” She leaned against his back, giving his sleeve a tug at the elbow. She couldn’t deal with _him_ avoiding her, too. He really _was_ being very generous in always letting her come by and complain when he was working, and she needed to stop pushing her luck so much. “Please…”

“Nope, none of that.” He turned and pressed a large hand over her face, gentle strength holding her there as he took a step away. “There’s only one apology I’ll accept.”

"Only one? But why- Oh, not _that_ …” Anything but that! Pidge had only agreed to that the first time because she had wanted to get a little laugh out of him and Lance back at the garrison. And still, while most of their class had written is off as a newbie transfer student thing, it was humiliating!4 She hadn’t pulled the voice in years and wasn’t sure if she could, but…

This time, he actually did look back at her, briefly, when he answered, making a point of walking to the far end of his workbench, eyes locked on her as he did. “Well, guess it’s back to sidekick land for me. You’re fading out. Transmission integrity dropping…”

 _Ugghh_..! Fine. FINE. If _that_ was what it was going to take, then she’d do it. It wouldn’t be nearly as bad as when they were in school together, right? There was no one around to see her embarrassment, no commanding officer to ask what the hell she was doing, cadet. She had come down to the hangar this morning because she needed Hunk’s guidance, and if _this_ was what it took to get it, so be it.

“Fine.” Pidge cleared her throat with a cough and a warbling squawk to check her pitch. She walked away from the workbench to the other side of the room, making sure she had the distance needed to pull this off. Giving herself one last nod of reassurance, she sprinted forward, dropping to her knees in a slide across the floor, ending in a prostrated position at Hunk’s feet as she screeched. “Pleeeeeeez! My Talleeeest! Ac-CEPT the _most_ _humble_ apologies… OF ZIIIIIIIM!” 5

And that was where she stayed, as Hunk’s raspy wheeze morphed first into a chuckle and then into a full-throated laugh. It must have taken him a good dobosh to compose himself enough to answer her in the most predictably dorky way he could. “Arise, tiny invader.”

“So you forgive me?” Pidge was still mostly on the floor looking upwards until Hunk offered her a hand.

“Yeah, yeah; I’m not really mad about the sidekick thing, anyway.” He gave a tiny shrug, rooting around in his pocket. Once his hair was back in a little topknot, he continued. “So, what’s your problem?”

“What makes you think it's _my_ problem?” Look at him, talking to her like all of this was _her_ fault. She wasn't the one going around being aloof and ignoring _herself_ , now was she? She didn't even notice the exasperated huff that passed her lips.

“Look, Pidge, it’s pretty clear you have a problem. You’re down here all the time these days when I’m trying to work. And, I mean, of course you are, and I need your help on a lot of it, but... I can’t get a lot of my own stuff done, and I don't like missing deadlines. Even if they are just in my head, so…” He patted the free space of counter at the end of his workbench, motioning for her to sit. “Get up here and spill it.”

"It's just...Lance has been acting _different_. Around me. I want to know why." Getting comfortable on the metal table took a moment. Pidge settled on leaning back onto her hands with her legs crossed. "And I know he tells _you_ everything, so..?"

Hunk pulled his mouth to the side, perturbed, but not looking up from his work."Nu-uh, Pidge, that's not how this works. I keep your secrets; I keep _his_ secrets."

She sometimes wished she hadn't outgrown some of her childish anger from before Matt's mission, before her time at the garrison. Long-haired Katie or Cadet Gunderson wouldn't have thought twice about punching his elbow, even if he was lasering into possibly unstable alien tech. She would just have to poke around the edges of the issue and see how much she could get out of him. "Okay, fine. I won't ask if you know why – and you definitely _cannot_ tell him about me asking this – but... Is Lance mad at me?"

"Why would you think he was mad at you?" Hunk strained as he tried to reach down inside the tiny opening of the flangion-subductor unit. "A little help?"

"Sure." Pidge slipped her hand inside, setting to work on unscrewing the support nuts as she spoke. "I just noticed he doesn't really tease me, or flirt with me like he does with you guys."

"Didn't you used to get pissed off when he teased you though? Maybe he just took the hint." The sound of squeaking metal rang in the workspace. Hunk sighed, and steadied her arm, reaching for a wrench. "Hold."

"Holding." Working on something made it a little easier to talk, at least. Self-distraction, even something as simple as unscrewing a little nut, was helping her speak her thoughts without all the emotional baggage. "I didn't like it, but now I'm the only one he _doesn't_ do it with. I mean, he even flirts with Keith. _Keith_ , Hunk!"

"So you think he's mad at you because he finally did what you asked?" Hunk rolled his eyes as he used a clamp to secure the samouflange to the table, keeping it from rocking. "Good to go."

"Well it sounds stupid when you say it like that..." Pidge fought the urge to flick the nut she'd removed right back into his face as Hunk just _looked_ at her.  Like all he had to do was look to prove his point. Well, her concern was _not_ stupid.

Maybe Lance _was_ listening to her. But, if that was the case, wouldn't he have abided by Keith's wishes, too? Even if he didn't get on well with Keith, the blue paladin admired the shit out of Shiro. This definitely wasn't about Lance suddenly discovering those things called personal boundaries. This wasn't about him doing what she wanted, either. This was just him, doing his own thing, _to_ _her_ , and she wanted to know why.

They worked in silence for a few long dobashes, Hunk giving instructions and Pidge generally just following his lead. This wasn't exactly getting her issue resolved, but she _did_ kind of feel like she owed him for coming down here so much. And even if he was only putting up with her because her smaller hands could get at the pieces his couldn't reach, at least he wasn't kicking her out.

Once they had finished everything that required two people, she tucked her hands back into the sleeves of her jacket, settling them in her lap. Hunk didn't seem to be rushing her to leave, yet, so she could get comfortable. Still, she didn't want to just sit around taking up space if it wasn't going to help either of them. There were a lot of things she _could_ be doing right now – asking the mice this same set of questions, for example – but this was the only one that might make her feel better _without_ blowing up in her face. "So, what kind of people does Lance like?"

"Hmm?" He did at least look in her direction this time, though he seemed more confused by her question than interested. "Pretty sure Lance likes everyone. He even befriended those mermaids that tried to kill us, remember?"

"No, I mean the people he _likes_?" Fuck, this was embarrassing. She wasn't a little kid, anymore! Even if Lance was her strongest – and also _technically her_ first – crush, she was better than this! She had faced down killer plants, and giant space monsters, having her family kidnapped, and even the prospect of drifting endlessly in a floating space dump. Pidge gave her cheeks a double-handed slap, turning her now determined gaze to Hunk.

For his part, her fellow Team Punk member was nonplussed. Hell, he even looked like he was about to start laughing as he spoke. “Pidge, you remember that song he played on loop in the simulator. The one that drove you crazy?”

What the hell did that have to do with _anything_?! Maybe it was a test? Would Hunk actually quiz her on her knowledge of their mutual friend before helping her out? Well, given the way he was curling his lip in, sneakily trying to hide his amusement: Yes. Yes, he could. Fine. She'd play along for now. But, Pidge thought grumpily, she would remember this if ever _he_ came to her for advice.

Which brought her to another conundrum. Which of Lance's songs had driven her crazy? Or, more specifically, the craziest? “ _Centuries_?” 6

“No, the other one.” Hunk shook his head, settling back onto his stool in a comfortable slouch.

Hmm. That was the one she'd thought of first, but there were others. Maybe it was the one he used to have as his ringtone? “ _D’Espacito_?” 7

“No, the _other_ other one.”

Other other? What was more annoying than the catchy song in a language she couldn't understand that had constantly come screaming out of Lance's pants pocket? Maybe the catchy song, also in a language she couldn't understand, that he'd used to wake her up on the mornings after she’d slept over? " _Pon Pon_?" 8

Hunk had his hand over his mouth, but it didn't hide his little grin. He knew how much she'd hated those mornings. "No, Pidge, I'm talking about the one that made you punch the console and sent us crashing into the moon."

Okay, she hated to admit it, but that was going to take some thought. It wasn't because she didn't remember a time when her anger at Lance’s showboating had sent them plummeting into the lunar surface. She did, and that was the problem. "That happened like _three_ times!"

“Did it now?” How many tonnes of shit had Hunk eaten to get that grin?

She would have to think of an appropriate vengeance after she figured this out. One that left Hunk as flustered and annoyed as she felt right now. And preferably one that haunted him for at least a few weeks. Best friend or not, he was working awfully hard to put himself in her bad books. " _All_ of Lance’s songs made me crazy. He’d just pick one and play it on loop for _weeks_ , so even if it was good – which it never was because he listens to old man music – I’d have gotten sick of it."

"Hey! Some of the Boss' stuff was good…" She couldn't let herself be mollified by the gentle way he patted her hair, almost like he was smoothing down the fur of an angry cat. "C’mon, Pidge. We can’t all be into deep memecore and thrash filk. Just accept that you’re both musical weirdos and guess, again."

" _All of Me_?" 9

"…" Hunk sighed, quirking one brow as he looked down at her with a slight frown, but she could tell that he was enjoying this. The corners of his mouth kept pulling up, the jerk. It was a rare day when he knew something she didn't, and it seemed like the yellow Paladin was milking this for all it was worth. He was definitely smirking now.

“No... The one that made you say," he pitched his voice up, putting he hands over his ears and scrunching up his face, "'I can never listen to trumpets again!'”

“Oh, _My Type_!” 10 She recognized it, but she was still going to hurt him one of these days.

“Right!" His proffered Team Punk fist bump did not equate with forgiveness. Still, she could maybe get behind the one-armed hug he followed up with. Hunk gave her a second tight squeeze. "I've known him since we were twelve, and I’m pretty sure that’s Lance’s dating theme song, if that answers your question.”

What. The. Fuck. That... That was _not_ the answer Pidge had been looking for. Sure, she knew that Lance was pretty much open about being attracted to... well, she'd have to say _people –_ he wasn't limiting himself to attractive _humans_ after all – but that just made it so much worse. Hunk was, perhaps, being hyperbolic, but he wasn't _lying_ to her. "But I’ve totally got a pulse! And I’m _definitely_ breathing, so… What’s wrong with me?!”

"Nothing’s wrong with you.  Maybe Lance just values your friendship too much to mess it up joking about getting into your shorts?” He even managed to say it like he believed it.

“That's not anywhere near true. If _nothing_ was wrong, then NOTHING would be wrong!" How could Hunk not get this?! She had just _told_ him what the problem was – quite clearly – and he’d been no help at all. Even the _mice_ would have been more helpful than Hunk was being. At least they wouldn’t try to placate her into believing this was a _good_ thing.

Pidge crossed her arms tightly over her chest, fighting the urge to pout. "Plus, I value our friendship just fine, thank you, in part because I _expect_ some fake flirting. Seems like the only thing I’m gonna get at this rate."

Hunk sounded terse, again, as he unclamped the samouflange from the workbench. He pushed it to the back, leaning sideways into the cleared space. “You could just have a chat with him, huh? Let him know? Instead of moping around in my workshop? Taking up valuable counter space? Swearing me to secrecy so it’s impossible for _me_ to tell him?”

“That won’t yield objective results. He might just start flirting so I don’t feel left out. I want him to mean it.” No one ever just _asked_ somebody if they liked them, right? Maybe if they were really brave? Or incredibly stupid? At worst, she was only almost one of those things. Either way, she wasn’t asking.

“Oooooh... You want him to _want_ to do the dishes.” 11 Something lit behind Hunk’s eyes. He nodded, finally seeming to understand.

At her obviously confused look, he explained himself. “You want him to flirt with you because he likes flirting with you, not because you _want_ him to like flirting with you. That’s right, right?”

“I’ll say something if _he_ says something-" The soft whoosh of air off to her right halted her speech as the room's door panel slid open. On seeing Allura walk in, trailed by Coran, she released the breath the hadn't realized she'd been holding.

"Man, Pidge, you’ve got it baaad." He gave her a gentle poke in the shoulder, then nodded his head to the Alteans walking up behind him.

Allura offered a perfunctory wave before crossing to stand in front of Pidge, lips drawn tight. She tilted her head to Hunk, so he knew she was addressing him, but kept her eyes trained on the green paladin. “What’s she got, Hunk? Pidge, did you pick something up on that supply run? Is it contagious?”

“Maybe, Princess. I seem to be immune, but…” Hunk winked at her over Allura’s shoulder.

She was going to end him. Slowly. Painfully. Probably with a tool stolen from this very workroom. She’d need to display his corpse out in the open in a public place; somewhere central so that everyone could see what happened to the enemies of Paladin Katie Holt. Or maybe she’d sell him to the Galra. Hunk was sturdy; he’d probably survive the physical torture for a while. Maybe he’d come back with a synthetic _face_. One that looked decidedly less punchable.

With her mind tripping through her lists of gruesome ways to suffer, she was unprepared when Coran pushed past Allura and right up into her face. “Oh, goodness, I do hope not! What’s wrong, Number Five? Do you feel feverish? Headaches? Have you started having any unusual secretions?”

“She _does_ look a bit flushed. That’s a warning sign in humans, isn’t it?” Allura genuinely meant well as she placed a hand on the younger girl’s forehead. “Should we wait and see if she comes out of it on her own?”

“No can do, Princess. The last time we had anyone seriously ill on this castle it was that terrible case of the Lurgies.12 We may not have enough buckets even for young Pidge, not to mention the other paladins.” The royal advisor straightened, one hand on his hip, the other tugging at his moustache “We'd have to put Shiro and Hunk in the pool and hope for the best, if it came to that.”

“I’m fine!” Pidge jumped down from the counter. She pushed past Coran, but Allura got a hold of her wrist before she could get by.

The princess clicked her tongue. “Your pulse is a little elevated… I really think someone should keep an eye on you, just to be safe.”

“It’s up because you’re bothering me. I just need some time to myself.” She wriggled out of Allura’s grasp. She also conveniently ignored Hunk's muttered 'me, too.' With a last glare back at her fellow paladin, Pidge pulled up her hoodie, stuffed her hands in her pockets, and made for the door. “And no tracking me through the castle; it’s creepy!”

Coran was behind her, with a gentle hand on her shoulder, almost as soon as she started walking. “No worries, Pidge. I'll be happy to monitor you, myself, for a few vargas. We haven't had a nice chat in quite a while, and I'm always keen to pick that mind of yours.”

“Whatever.” She stomped out, determined to lose Coran and his over-bearing protectiveness as soon as possible. The hatch panel slid closed behind them with an unsatisfying _whoosh_ , and she took a moment to – barely – hate being on a technologically advanced alien space castle. The lack of actual doors to slam was a serious hindrance to a dramatic exit.

But the lack of hinged doors  _did_ prove useful, though not for her. The automatic hatch closed just in time to prevent her from hearing Hunk’s whisper. “When you have time, Princess, there’s something we need to talk about…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so there were a _lot_ of references in this chapter. I'm positing, I don't believe incorrectly, that Hunk and Pidge in this story are giant nerds. Not necessarily the same variety; Pidge is all about gaming and memes, whereas Hunk's meme-knowledge comes primarily from loving anime and manga. Lance was the one in the group that got more of the popular media references, and is also a music junkie.
> 
> So, let's break these references down, shall we?
> 
> 1 - Cait Sith and the Mog are from FF7.
> 
> 2 - Tiny Yachiru rode around on Kenpachi in Bleach.
> 
> 3 - This is an OG Thundercats reference because: A) Alien space-cats form a clear parallel; and B) samouflange/samoflange is something that makes me laugh. Look it up for giggles.
> 
> 4 - I'm not saying Lance and Hunk set out to _haze_ Pidge, but she for sure lost at least one bet that resulted in having to complete a stupid dare.
> 
> 5 - This Invader Zim reference got so stuck in my head that there is actually a companion piece for this fic already half-written. I have issues. _Such_ issues do I have...
> 
> Okay, before we continue, let me just state that Pidge's words in no way reflect my opinions on these songs. Only Hunk's do.
> 
> 6 - _Centuries_ by Fallout Boy
> 
> 7 - _D'Espacito_ by Luis Fonsi featuring Daddy Yankee
> 
> 8 - _Pon Pon_ by Kyary Pamyu Pamyu
> 
> 9 - _All of Me_ by John Legend
> 
> 10 - _My Type_ by Saint Motel 
> 
> _*deep breath*_ I tried to get most of this across in chapter 2, but I'm going to put it out here now. Hunk is definitely using hyperbole when saying this is Lance's theme-song. The chorus states _'you know you're just my type, you've got a pulse, and you are breathing.'_ Now, I don't mean to imply that Lance doesn't have standards, or that he's out to be Lancey McSlutterson and just bang everything in the universe. If you('ve) listen(ed) to the song, it's fucking catchy as hell. I think it being Lance's theme song is an in-joke between Lance and Hunk, not that Hunk _literally_ thinks the song describes Lance. I am, however, of the belief that Lance is attracted to people, and he's not really paying that much attention to their gender unless it's important to them. Hence him being upset about Pidge not telling him her truth, but not about her being a girl. _*unclenches, hoping ass is reasonably covered*_
> 
> 11 - This is referencing a scene from the move _The Breakup_ with Jennifer Aniston and Vince Vaughn. Hunk _might_ have gotten stuck watching awful rom-coms and crappy relationship movies with his dad a couple of times. Just saying
> 
> 12 - Remember how I said I had issues? Pretty sure I have subscriptions. So "The Dreaded Lurgi" was a fictional disease first dreamed up in Britain in the 1950s, and my mom always used the adjectival _lurgy_ to describe a feeling of stomach sickness or nausea without a cause. And then I started a VLD fanfic about it starring Lance. And, one day, I will finish it.
> 
> 13 - There was no 13th superscript, but you're a champ for having read this far!


	4. Gotta Stay Hungry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance jumps to conclusions and lands on his ass.
> 
> Un-beta'd, so send me a message if you notice something.

“I need to use _both_ of my arms to cook, you know?” Hunk pressed his finger into Lance’s forehead, hard.

Taking the hint, Lance released him to lean against the refrigerator. He had draped himself in a casual heap over the other man’s shoulder when he came in out of habit. Hunk was the only one of their friends that had grown up with a big family, and pretty much the only person on the ship that understood the blue paladin’s need to just casually be near – and sometimes _on top of_ – other people. Well, one of only two, but that second option was probably still off the table. That was what he needed to talk about, the whole reason he’d come up here, and now was as good a time as any. "Hey, Hunk?"

"Yeah?" The Samoan was focused on adding little flecks of some dried green leaves to the pot. He gave only a cursory nod, still working at his soup.

Lance fought down the urge to pull up his hood to hide in. This was Hunk, after all. Sure, he might laugh a little, but he’d never really mocked him. At least, never about anything for which Lance didn’t _obviously_ deserve ridicule. Still, this was really the first time he’d tried to voice his feelings and – for one of only a handful of times since they’d left earth – Lance was at a loss for words. Well, that wasn’t true; he had lots of words. They were incoherent and screechy, and about ninety-percent of them were just some combination of ‘Pidge!-Cute!-Angry!-HELP!’ He _had_ words. But words that would make sense to someone that hadn’t been rattling around in his head for the last couple of feebs? Those were in short supply.

Lance just had to pick a point to start. That was all. He shoved his hands into his pockets, shifting his gaze to the corner. “Do you, uh… Do you think Pidge likes me?”

"What do you mean?" Hunk's voice shot into a higher register as he came to the end of the sentence, in the way it always did when he was nervous.

Double fudge! He _was_ hiding something. Lance just had to weedle it out of him. It might take a while, though, here in the kitchen, where Hunk had the hometown advantage. He should have cornered the other man in the training room; Lance knew he'd have done anything to worm his way out of extra training sessions. Still, he had finally gotten Hunk alone, and finally gotten the stones to ask his questions, so he'd just have to roll with it. "I mean, do you think she considers me a friend?"

Hunk shrugged, not dismissive, but clearly a little unnerved. "As opposed to what, man?"

"I dunno! An annoyance? A hassle? The guy that came as a two-for-one special with her _real_ friend?" Hunk’s discomfort was understandable; if Pidge _had_ told him something, she might have asked him not to share. Which was good, in its own way. At least she was talking to someone, even if it _wasn’t_ him. Still, what did that make him, if she couldn’t even tell him why she was upset?

Hunk set the spoon he’d been using on a plate, turning to face Lance and leaning back against the counter as the pot simmered. “Dude, you know she's your friend. What's making you think otherwise?”

“Just...” Just that he had seen a gradual change in her over the time they’d been out here, but it was getting worse now. Just that he was pretty sure that Green had closed her mouth hatch faster on purpose during their last mission, trying to snap at him. Just that he didn’t know what had started it, but – somewhere along the line – Pidge had decided there was something wrong with _just_ him. Just that he was losing someone he'd considered of his best friends, and he’d had to turn to the other for help. “Look, it's going to sound stupid, but like...” how could he phrase this without sounding like an insecure twat? In the time that he paused, he realized he couldn't. “Pidge doesn't talk to me like she does to you.”

"O-oh?" Hunk looked like he was slowly choking on a large frog.

“Yeah, I mean... I just feel like I need to do something to get her trusting me, again.” He squeaked his trainer across the flooring. He didn’t want to keep making Hunk uncomfortable, but there wasn’t really anyone else he could talk to right now. Shiro would _probably_ side with Pidge over whatever this was, and he couldn’t handle Allura’s optimism and sappy platitudes. Coran might take it upon himself to _fix_ things immediately – like that handcuff food fight from when they'd first become paladins – and that could be disastrous. Keith was a possibility... _if_ he just wanted to be insulted.

Lance leaned more of his weight into the icebox. This might have been a worse idea than he thought. Sure, they had all seemed close at the garrison, but he didn’t have the connection to Pidge that Hunk did. They didn’t have a not-so-secret fist-bump, or a special name. There had never been a _‘Team Plank’_ , after all. He didn’t want to butt into whatever they had going – and just hearing that thought in his own head hurt – but, at the same time, he also hated being left out of the loop. “Like... for the past feeb or so, she's been hanging out with just you all the time – and, believe me, I totally get that I'm not all up on the techno jargon like you two – but I feel like she doesn't wanna share stuff with me anymore.”

“Well, I mean… we’ve been out here a while.” Hunk adjusted his apron and turned back to his soup. “It’s a lot for any of us to deal with. We're bound to get on each other's nerves once in a while.”

 “Yeah, and I guess it's got to be kind of weird for her out here, too.”  Pidge hadn’t been a social butterfly at the garrison, but she had _known_ other people. Sure, she spent a lot of time around Hunk and himself, but that was part of her reconnaissance mission, right? She might have been super social, or involved, or had a lot of friends before. Lance wondered if she just missed them? Or maybe her _old_ friends were more like Hunk and Shiro; stable, level-headed kinds of people. Because, really, she would have met Hunk in their classes, or bonding over one of their weird movie nights, but him? Lance couldn’t help the scoffing a little out loud. At Hunk’s sideways glance, he coughed into his hand again.

 _That_ actually made a lot more sense. He had no illusions about being a very _enthused_ sort of friend. Maybe he was just too _on_ for Pidge? Hunk was right; this _was_ a stressful life they were living. And it wasn’t like she had no one to talk to besides him and Hunk. She had known Shiro since she was a kid, and she talked with Allura a lot. The mice, too! She was definitely _hiding_ something from him – so was Hunk; he could tell – but maybe it wasn’t a bad thing.

His friend’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Exactly, man. We’re all on edge. I mean, even Shiro’s been off lately.”

“It’s good to have him back, but, yeah, you’re right.” Lance spun the chair around, watching as Hunk’s attention shifted back to cooking. He had a point. They were all still adjusting to the shift in Voltron. Sure, only he and Keith had actually moved, but the cohesion of the lions meant everyone was feeling some strain. He and Hunk had adjusted pretty quickly, but they’d made a good team as legs. He and Keith, though, had wildly different takes on being the right arm. Pidge was probably adjusting to that.

Maybe this really _was_ just her way of trying to handle the stress. He’d seen Allura talking a lot more with the mice. Hunk had started making himself just generally busy. Lance had found himself wanting to spend more time swimming or in the star-projector room. And Shiro had been sticking awfully close to Keith since he got back. _That_ was kind of sweet, really – subtle those two were _not_ – but it showed how hard all of this was getting for them. He’d even seen Keith initiate a full hug a few cycles ago, in the main lounge, too. Maybe Pidge just needed some stress relief and support, too.

Support from someone balanced and strong; somebody she could talk to, who could make her feel safe even out here, and- He _was_ an idiot. Of _course_ , that was what was going on. Hunk didn’t keep secrets from him – not normally – but something like _this_? No wonder he’d gotten so nervous about Lance’s prodding. Plus, this would explain _everything_ with Pidge, right? Lance had kept trying to invite her along to things with the both of them, only to have her blow it off, but that made sense if she-

Okay, so it still wasn’t something he wanted to think about. Not even as an impossibility, but… It wasn’t _impossible_. It wasn’t even improbable. They were close friends, fighting side-by-side, with hobbies in common. They spent hours together, just the two of them, in the hangar or working at their consoles. They were already the perfect nerdy tag-team _before_ they’d become paladins, enough so that she’d been honest with Hunk about… well, _more_ than she had been with him, that was for sure.

If that was what was muddying the waters between all of them, then he’d just have to face it. Yeah, it would hurt like hell, but… Hunk and Pidge were his friends; he could be happy for _them_. Genuinely. He’d be crying in the back corner of his heart for a while, but at this point he’d already built a little misery cave back there. He couldn’t risk years of friendship and… awkward acquaintance? over this. Time to bite the laser bullet and get it over with. Like tearing off a bandage the size of his back scar. Right.

Mind set, Lance slid the chair back into its place at the counter. He stepped back into the space beside the counter, waiting for Hunk to finish up. Once his friend finally removed his apron, he realized this was a ready as he was going to get. “Hey, Hunk.”

Hunk reached up to swipe his sleeve across his forehead. He readjusted his headband as he turned back to Lance. “Yeah.”

“Just wanted to say I’m proud of you, buddy.” It was the most painful smile he’d pulled in years, but he had to make it count, right? Hunk was the kind of guy that would keep quiet about secrets until they just exploded out of him. Better to beat him to it so he wouldn’t have to spend any more time feeling guilty. Lance offered his hand. “You know I’m happy for you, right? Both of you.”

“Thanks, but it’s just soup?” Hunk reached forward, giving his hand a firm shake.

“No, I mean-” He cleared his throat; he wanted to gag,  but he _had_ to say this. “I mean about you and Pidge. Congrats, man.”

Hunk’s grip remained firm, even as his smile wavered. “Wh-what?”

Lance had never seen someone so clearly go through the whole emotional spectrum so quickly. The Samoan’s grip tightened further on his hand, his voice high and panicked. “Wait, no! It’s not-! We’re not-! Dude, no!”

Hunk leaned forward, face pressed in close despite his volume. “Between handling _this_ , and _you_ , and- I don’t even have _time_ for that sort of thing, man!” Lance was just recovering from the _that_ emotional whiplash when the yellow paladin yanked him into a crushing hug, leaving him solidly winded.

He was, he realized, completely unaware of that the quiznack was happening on this ship. Lance was growing to fear his intuition was nothing more than dumb luck and good reflexes. Pidge didn’t trust him and was mad all the time; he didn’t know why. Hunk was hiding something that _wasn’t_ a relationship with her; he didn’t know what. He’d apparently misread _both_ situations; he wasn’t sure how, or what to do next. Because now he had _two_ possible problems. Lance shook his head. Blowing bangs out of his eyes, he gave Hunk a gentle pat on the back. “O-okay, man. I need air.”

“Sorry.” The vice-like grip loosened, leaving Lance to rest back against the counter as Hunk paced in front of him. Well, rest and dodge as the latter was gesticulating wildly, hands flailing with his words. “Just, I don’t. And if I did, still a no, okay? _Not_ her; I mean, _somebody_ , but not Pidge…”

“And, jeez, you know I’d tell you, right? Just like you’d tell me if there was someone for you.” Hunk rounded on him, again, hands landing on Lance’s shoulders. His face was open – shocked, but sincere – as he leaned in. He gave Lance another shake for emphasis. “Best buds, remember?”

Maybe he _should_ tell Hunk. Maybe he should space himself because he didn’t think he could tolerate any more embarrassment and live. Hunk had his own issues that he wasn’t sharing. Now was hardly the time to say, ‘ _Glad you’re not with Pidge like that, cuz I need your help figuring out if that’s a possibility for me._ ’ Lance only nodded, smile still firmly in place. He’d kept the lie going all this time, anyway. A little longer wouldn’t hurt. “Y-yeah, I remember, best buddy. I’d tell you.”

“Good.” The yellow paladin pulled him, again. Another quick hug, and Lance was spun around toward the door, Hunk’s hand delivering a gentle push against his back. “Now, shoo! I’ve gotta get this done before 15:001, okay?”

“Sure, man. Later.” Tucking his hands into his pockets, Lance shouldered his way through the door. He finally dropped the smile once he could lean back against the closed hatch. Now what?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 - Alright, so Altean time seems to be base-10/base-20, roughly. A “day cycle” seems to be about 20 vargas (hours), so I’m guessing that eating at about 8:00am, 12:00pm, and 6:00pm translates into eating at about 1/3, 1/2, and 3/4 of the way through the cycle. Putting meals roughly at 6.5:00, 10:00, and 15:00. Hunk is making dinner. Time is a construct of perception. Dobosh is fun to type.
> 
> As always, I'm weak to feedback. ^ -^


	5. Keeps Getting Clearer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunk is not fine, but Allura likes cookies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Petty, somewhat vindictive Hunk. If you're not comfortable with an "over-their-bullshit" Hunk, maybe skip this chapter.

_"Like a rolling dumpster fire down Becks Run Road into the Mon. 1"_ Hunk didn't know exactly where those two places are, but he remembered the nasally twang of a fellow engineering student at the garrison using that phrase to describe a relationship gone sideways. And, even without the rest of the context, he could agree that _rolling dumpster fire_ was a pretty good description of what he saw happening with his two best friends. It was loud and obviously dangerous, and if intervention didn't happen soon somebody was going to be seriously hurt. He should stop it, but it was so insane that he couldn't look away. And, in the quiet dark of his mind, part of him kind of wanted to keep it going.

He had spent _so long_ in the middle of those two, and he was sick of putting up with their stupid game of cat and cat! And they really were like two cats in an alley: Both of them on edge, hackles raised at all times, and neither knowing whether they were going to fight or... Well, maybe not _that_ far. Probably just memey, shitpost flirting and gross, overblown PDAs. Or, on the other hand, verbally mauling each other. Honestly, it was getting to where Hunk didn't care what happened if they would only do _something_ besides sigh and gripe and bother him when he was trying to work.

He only had two places where he didn't want to be disturbed. _Just two!_ Talking during training? Hunk would have been fine with that. A conversation when he was in the lounge or the library would have worked, too. At this point, Hunk would have cared less if Pidge just showed up in his room in the middle of the night. Or if Lance had started spouting off over the shower divider. But could any of _that_ happen? Oh, no; not for _him_.

This constant of worrying about the both of them was bad for his work _and_ his health. He didn’t even want to _look_ at food if he'd made it while listening to one of them; secrets made him nauseated. The last time he'd made an adjustment to Yellow's regulators, he'd installed the couplings backwards; she’d pouted for a week! Could they understand that he had hobbies? Work to do? A life outside of _them_?!

Clearly, no; no they could not.

Which is why he was here, now, ham-fistedly clutching a delicate Altean teacup in some sort of salon library as Allura gave him a reassuring squeeze. The mice were curled up in the hood of his sweatshirt and the Princess was patting his head, and maybe he could finally vent to her. He’d brought cookies – root paste biscuits he’d been working on – to literally sweeten the deal. Allura was his only shot right now.

He certainly couldn’t tell anyone else. Shiro would scold Pidge for not being honest with herself or her teammate. Keith would have yet another reason to pick fights with Lance. Coran would probably be so obviously in on it that one of them would just _know_ Hunk had blabbed. But Hunk could spill his guts to Allura, and maybe they could come up with a solution? Or at least both of them could be on alert for when this dumpster bin finally exploded on impact.

\\-/-\\-/

Allura set her cup down on the saucer. Picking up one of the grey-pink biscuits, she nibbled as she spoke, head tilted in thought. "I can understand Pidge wanting to keep her feelings private, but I'm rather surprised Lance hasn't said something to her. He's usually very... erm... honest.”

Hunk nodded, chewing slowly at his own cookie. He wasn’t surprised that Allura hadn’t noticed any of Lance’s _reserved_ moments. They were rare; Lance was usually quite happy to tell anyone exactly what was on his mind. “Lance has no filter about a lot of things, especially flirting, but...  but not the things that matter.”

"And you can't simply tell each of them how the other feels?” She dunked what was left of her cookie, eating it before taking another. “Would they not appreciate it?”

"That's sorta breaking friend code, Princess. I mean, even this is bending the rules a lot, but you’re technically our leader and also a reigning monarch, so I _think_ I can say I had to do it.” He shrugged at the brow she raised, but it was what he would say if either of them asked. Hunk couldn’t just _lie_ right to their faces about this; even the lies-by-omission were getting to be more than he could really handle. Hence being here. Because he couldn’t get cookies and conversation with Pidge and Lance without it getting _weird_. Not that eating juniberry biscuits and tea in his pyjamas with an alien princess and some psychic mice was _not_ weird. Just that this weirdness was pleasant, and fluffy, and _definitely_ less stressful than his friends’ current weird.

Plus, both of them had gotten it into their heads that something was wrong, and they were both too thick-skulled for him to dissuade. Not that they wouldn’t _act_ like they understood. He could expect lip-service to whatever he said, but that was no guarantee they’d believe him. Maybe they got on each other’s nerves because they could be so alike? Or maybe that was the part of the attraction? “Not to mention that they're both stubborn. They'll deny it or find some way not to believe me. And then they'll be tiptoeing around each other _and_ mad at me."

That only garnered him a sigh from Allura. They spent a few doboshes in companionate silence, refilling their cups and slowly decimating the pile of cookies. Hunk made sure to pass one over his shoulder to the mice. He got a few quiet, happy chitters for his trouble before they scampered down his arm to the table. It was cute how they took turns at the third cup Allura had put out for them. Even if they were putting away quite a few cookies themselves now that they had direct access to the plate.

Allura made a little shooing motion to the mice as she grabbed at another biscuit. “Perhaps we could try to get them together more often-”

He shook his head, mumbling around his current mouthful. “They've been together for years, now, Allura, and-”

"I mean together _alone_ , Hunk. If Shiro and I are drafting mission plans and we _happen_ to need to send out a pair of paladins, and it _happens_ to be those two, then..." Those bright blue eyes darkened with mischief for just a moment as a sly, somewhat unsettling smirk flitted across her face. Very white teeth snapped into her cookie, and left Hunk somehow more nervous than he had been before the conversation began. Allura took a delicate sip from her own teacup, washing down her cookie before she spoke. "I'm sure they can work this out given the proper circumstances and motivation."

"Or they could kill each other." When had time sent him backwards to eighth grade that his voice could was so screechy? Probably right after he started fixating on the fact that the sweet, giant, alien princess could kill him without trying, and just before he realized that he was okay with that.

But now that he was nervous – though not necessarily about his friends – his mind wouldn’t shut up about all of the horrible ways any of this could continue to go wrong. Lance and Pidge could get into a fight and lose one of the lions. What if Pidge got jealous and hacked into Lance’s tech? Or one of Lance’s pranks went awry and started some intergalactic incident? Without him or Shiro to diffuse the situation, or just _prevent_ the stupid, the possibilities could be catastrophic!

Even before whatever _this_ was, there had been reasons – good, logical, safety-oriented reasons – why the team missions hadn’t involved just the two of them unless they _had_ to. Putting them together as they were now? Nu-uh, not a good idea. "Allura, I’m not kidding, that is a thing that _could_ happen! Them being idiots, and Voltron losing an arm and a leg!”

“Hunk,” she laid a hand on his leg, trying to calm him. “Do you really think they’d have that many problems?”

“That... That's a joke, right?” Allura had been on missions with them before. She had firsthand knowledge of how much trouble they could find when supervised, let alone _cause_ all on their own!

He should have just kept it to himself until he exploded, if this was how the princess planned to solve their problem. Not that his teammates were inherently unstable, but Lance was _hardly_ mature, and Pidge was _incredibly_ vindictive. And, Hunk realized, Allura’s plan was to just force them closer together, not realizing that would only make things worse! “Zarkon could conquer the universe because both of them managed to put their feet in their mouths while keeping their heads up their asses."

"Can humans do that?" She sounded genuinely concerned about the possibility.

"They'd figure out how. If anyone could, it would be one of them." Hunk couldn’t contain the weariness leeching into his voice. “They’re both very, very stubborn.”

"Hmmm." She took another bite of her cookie, nodding thoughtfully. “So we need to intervene subtly?”

“I don’t know if we should intervene _at all_.” He reached to take a sip of tea, to hide behind his cup, but it was empty. Hunk turned it over in his hands, fingers tracing the rim. It might not do much for the situation, but at least he had someone commiserate with, now. He could probably bribe his way back with another tray of cookies then next time things got to be too much. Allura didn’t seemed to mind.

She did, however, seem to not be listening to him at the moment. Her jaw was set, clenched slightly to one side. She brought her right hand up to her lips, fingers in a loose fist as she spoke. "I think a two-pronged approach would work best. They'll likely notice if we're both checking up on them. I shall look after Lance while you look after Pidge. We can confer to share our findings after our usual meetings regarding the maintenance of the castle, and no one shall be the wiser."

That was only going to spread the mess around further, but… Allura had turned to look at him, eyes almost shining, forcing him to bite back the sigh he could feel building in his chest. The princess was trying to be helpful; Hunk _knew_ that. Her ideas at least involved a more active approach, and the missions _would_ get Pidge and Lance out of his space maybe long enough for him to think up some other solution.

The worst thing that could happen was… Well, a dead or emotionally traumatized pair of paladins, but they _might_ get to that second one all on their own at this rate. He and Allura couldn’t stop this mess – couldn’t even slow it down – and maybe they shouldn’t try. Things might work out? Most of him hoped they would, but… If they didn’t, he’d have a front row seat for the ensuing explosion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 - Shout-out to people in the 'burgh. We would all watch this, and the dumpster would probably have a flaming couch in it.
> 
> Yeah, so maybe I snuck some one-sided hints at my _own_ favourite rare-pair. Might make a sidefic for myself once I finish more of this long-ass thing.  
>  ^ -^


	6. Up in the Evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pidge is trying, but Lance is _SO_ trying...

The intra-castleship radio being turned on was the her first clue that something was off.

When she had stepped out of the shower, Pidge had hoped to stroll back to her bedroom, dig a snack out from the stash she kept under her bed, and snuggle down with her trash-apillars and a good vid-show. But – once, again – _someone_ had upset her plans.

Someone who, she was learning, had the cute habit of singing not just _in_ the shower, but out of it. And whose idea had it been to program the songs from their phones into on-board radio stations? Who now stood – or, more likely, danced – between her and the warm comfort of her quarters? Why, Lance, of course. Of course.

Fuck it.

The soft tenor of her tormentor echoed off the bathroom tiles. “So he might sell a few more comics as, soberly, he saves the world? But I’ve had seven gin and tonics, and I want _you_ to be my girl~”

Pidge wrapped the towel more tightly around her head, seriously considering just waiting him out. They rarely ran in to each other anymore – _never_ in the bathroom –  and that was by design. She’d never really felt comfortable uncovered, even before the whole pretending-to-be-a-boy thing, but that experience hadn’t exactly helped her body image issues. The revelation that her crush could barely fathom her as female didn’t help.

She didn’t even understand how Lance could shower at night, and – if life had been more than the cruel interactions of a fragmented infinity moving toward entropy – she wouldn’t be here trying to do just that.

 _She_ certainly preferred her usual early morning showers. And she usually only showered once per day when she could help it. But Hunk had needed to make some repairs on Yellow that actually involved crawling into the lion’s tail to adjust the targeting of the laser rifle, and she’d been the only one small enough to fit.

Keith had already gotten stuck once before she got there, so he wasn’t doing it, again. After un-sticking the red paladin, Hunk had _looked_ at her, again, asking if she could return the favour and help him out. Now, it was an experience she wasn’t too keen to repeat, either!

Given the amount of space dust and grease she’d encountered along the way, she felt a compelling need to wash out of her hair. And it was that need that put her here, off-time to the showers, at risk of being seen in her giant fluffy bathrobe or worse.

Well, no, not worse. She was dressed, at least. And clean. And – quiznack! – she was tired! She wasn’t spending another fucking minute cowering in here. She had nothing to fear. Lance wouldn’t care what she was wearing, any more than he cared about anything else she did. She wouldn’t keep hiding avoiding him. She wouldn’t keep worrying about his feelings when he didn’t even _notice_ hers. And she certainly wouldn’t catch herself getting distracted by just how distracting he looked as she stepped into the shower anteroom to recycle her towel.

Lance was just finishing his song, not having noticed the good, long look she was giving him and he sang. “...of the heroes that you’ve met, he’s a bit more on the dry side. Everything’s better when wet!”

Not, of course, that most people would say Lance looked _good,_ by any means, at the moment. He was singing loudly into a hairbrush with one hand and smacking on his nightly blue-green face goo with the other. He was wearing a pair of those stupid – _adorable_ – lion slippers he kept giving them every time they celebrated Space Decemberween; an old pair, where the lions’ mouths weren’t quite right and one of the eye spots was missing. And, judging by both the way the bottom edges were frayed, and the fact that they were _tequila bottle_ patterned, those were probably the years old boxers he’d worn when they first left earth.

Lance was prancing around with green spackle on his face, his hair a series of cowlicks, wearing ratty underwear and singing into a hairbrush. Nothing attractive about that. Nope. Nu-uh.

He twirled as the last ‘ _Woo-hoo!’_ of the song faded. It wasn’t until he opened his eyes that he noticed her stunned reflection in the mirror. He spun, again, dropping the brush in his haste. “Shiii-! Oh… uh… H-Hi Pidge. What, uh, whatcha doin here?”

“Washing my hair.” It seemed she’d finally found something jarring enough to overload her, admittedly genius, mind. Because that sentence was the inanest thing she could possibly have answered. “With soap!”

And she had been mistaken. She could sink to lower verbal depths.

_Good job, brain!_

“Soap?” Lance’s frown did little to quell the nausea rising in her stomach. He shrugged, reaching down to pick up the brush.  “Really, cuz… I mean, that’s gonna dry your scalp out pretty badly, ya know?”

“Oh?” She was doing so well tonight, wasn’t she?

“I, uh,” her fellow paladin passed the brush between his hands as he spoke. Lance never _did_ seem to stop fidgeting, even when they were back at the garrison. “I have some really nice shampoo that I grabbed the last time we stopped for a swap… If you, uh… ya know… If you want it.”

“You don’t need to...” Pidge tucked a fly-away behind her ear with a shrug. She just _knew_ he was only offering because he didn’t think she was unable to even care for herself properly. She didn’t _need_ his charity. Pidge pulled the side of her lip between her teeth in frustration.

“No, no, it’s totally cool. Plus, I mean, c’mon, I have like a _dozen_ different shampoos and junk. Conditioners, too! We keep finding all this new stuff that I want to try, and, really, when you think about it, it’s kind of a problem, but- Yeah!” Lance turned back to the counter, rummaging through his own shower bag, hunting for something specific.

She could hear the clattering of bottles and jars onto the counter. How much did he have?!

“Got ‘em!” Lance shoved a set of matching lavender bottles toward her. “Here! Take these two!”

“Uh… Thanks.” She took the proffered bottles, tucking them into the pockets of her bathrobe. They didn’t _look_ dangerous, at least. Pidge hadn’t used _anything_ on her hair except soap in years, though. Maybe that was why it was such a mess to brush? She’d just have to figure out _how_ to use them. Or find some way to discreetly translate the labels. She could ask Allura. Maybe Coran?

“No problem. They smell like juniberries and pip-fruit, so… kinda like raspberry coffee? You leave it on for ten ticks and it- Ya know, never mind; those’re kind of complicated.” Lance turned to dig through his shower bag, again. After a moment, he pulled out a thin, flip capped tube. “Have this one. It’s xadul-melon. It's an all-in-one, so you won't even have to use conditioner. Baby steps, right?"

The blue paladin chuckled, offering her the third bottle. “Bonus, it’ll make you smell like an avocado..! Wait, maybe not a bonus. I mean, I dunno if anybody actually _wants_ to smell like an avocado-“

“It’s great! Thanks, Lance, bye!” She snatched the bottle away, throwing it in to her toiletry bag. She couldn’t afford to be polite now; she just needed to get out. She had the rest of her life to be embarrassed by what she _apparently_ didn’t know. Pidge ignored the rest of whatever Lance was saying. No amount of Arusian comedy shows was likely to improve her evening, but she was going to try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lance is singing"Aquaman's Lament" by Mark Aaron James.


	7. Nothing to Say

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance isn't sure he'll ever be _ahlraight_...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Un-beta'd because I wanted to get this out today. Message me if you see typos, yeah?

He wasn’t staring. That would be creepy, and he was _not_ going to be creepy, so he wasn’t staring. Plus, staring implied a constant focused attention, and his attention was shifting. It moved from Pidge’s joyfully frustrated working-face, down to her hands, back up to her face. Not focused at all… on anything other that the green paladin and – quiznak – he _was_ staring, wasn’t he?

Lance sighed, pulling himself right-side up where he straddled Blue’s shoulder. It was hard to turn away from favourite-person watching, but he needed to finish buffing out a few scrapes she’d gotten on their last mission. The lions all seemed to be partially self-repairing, but he felt he owed it to her. He’d been… distracted, recently, and it had shown in his piloting. They’d been coming back in from an initial scan of the system. He’d over-corrected on a sharp turn and – WHAM – sent his big gal shoulder first into a stray asteroid.

“You forgive me, though, don’tcha, partner?”

He knew she wasn’t going to answer, not with words, but he felt a warm, stinging something wash over him. If sarcastic eye-rolling was a feeling, Lance was pretty sure he’d just felt it. “Yeah, yeah, I know… I _am_ sorry, though.”

She chuffed in the back of his mind, but was quiet otherwise.

He returned to wiping away the darker flecks of grime that marred her white and blue coating, humming softly. It was easy to lose himself in the simple repetition of it all, and Blue was certainly easier to talk to than anyone else on the ship right now.

Hunk was acting unusually snippy; he’d taken to locking the kitchen whenever he was in there. Keith had gone back to being the official castle misanthrope once Shiro got settled back in; if he _was_ around, Lance sure couldn’t find him. Shiro, maybe to make up for his absence, was acting especially commanding, at least when he wasn’t zoning out. Pidge, of course, still vacillated between being stingingly salty and just outright ignoring him. It seemed like everyone was off balance these days.

Well, except for the Alteans, who still seemed themselves. Although – honestly – Lance wasn’t sure Coran had even been _on_ balance, so who knew when something was up with him? And, if he thought on it, Allura hadn’t been her _normal_ self recently, either. She’d seemed especially attentive for the last pheob or so – sisterly, really – which he would have liked if it wasn’t so… cloying.

He gave Blue a gentle nudge with his elbow. “I swear, if she says ‘ _L_ _ah_ _nce, ahr yuu ahlraight?’_ one more time, I’m going to snap.”

Blue turned her head slightly towards him, one eye glowing, and Lance was swimming in her smug amusement.

“I know we’re a lot alike, but everyone says I’m annoying, so there.” He gave her armoured shoulder another affectionate pat, shaking his head. He didn’t mind her sass, but he wasn’t going to just let her get away with it. “Besides, even though I’m not _ahlraight_ , what am I supposed to do about it?”

Lance hadn’t known green could be a physical feeling, but it was the answer he got. He scooted closer to his lion’s ear, even though she seemed to hear him whether or not he was nearby. “You got me there. I… I just don’t know, girl.”

Blue sent the same sensation pinging through his brain, verdant tingles tugging like a question.

“No. This stays between you and me.” Lance shook his head as he carefully shimmied across to cling to her jaw. Blue was gracious enough to lower her head and let him down without further prodding. He gave her muzzle a one-armed hug, trying his hardest to _feel_ gratitude _at_ her across their connection. She really did have the team’s interest at heart, she listened without judgment, and –

Another wave of knowing affection jostled through his thoughts.

He was still connected with her. Quiznak! Lance pulled his hand from her muzzle, giving his lion a mock glare over his shoulder as he walked away. “See if I ever get near _you_ with a chamois, again.” 

A last wave of encouragement hit the edge of his consciousness as he crossed the hangar. Granted, he was pretty sure Blue didn’t have a handle on how _bad_ things were between him and Pidge but… Lance shrugged, adjusting his collar. He could at least humour her, right? H e sidled up to the workbench the green paladin had long ago claimed as her private workstation.

“Hey, Pidge! All set for our miss-ee-own manyana?” His abuelita would have giving him a good pinch for purposely mispronouncing his Spanish, but Lance did it anyway. If he was lucky, he could at least get a laugh out of Pidge. Maybe even a snort.

“Yeah, I guess.” She stayed where she stood at the fabricator, not making eye contact. Which sucked, but at least gave him an excuse to stare until she turned around.

Screw that! Maybe Blue was right; he _should_ be more proactive. He scooted up behind her, prepared to rest his elbow atop her head like he used to, and… stopped. He had to. Pidge had grown. Noticeably, too, not like the micro-gravity induced growth they’d had to learn about at the Garrison. The ship was able to create its own artificial gravity. Whatever was in the goo hadn’t stunted their height, at least. Which, was, really, not a bad thing at all. She’d always complained about being too short, but she seemed well on her way to looking Keith in the eye at this rate.

Plus, his desperate hopefulness reminded him, Pidge being taller would make it harder for her to hide behind her hair, and easier for him to see her face. Or, maybe even ki-Nope! Nope; no more of that. He couldn’t keep hoping for more than he was already getting. “Looks like you leveled-up, Pidgelet.

“Whatever.” She pushed past him, moving to the other machining station.. “Do you have something important to say? Or do you need to meet a word quota today?”

“I… uh…” Lance shot a nervous look back to his lion. His hand carded through his hair, settling on the back of his neck. “I just kinda wanted to hang out, you know?”

“Hang out?” Her exasperated snort would have been cute if she wasn’t directing it at him. “With _you_?”

Lance hadn’t ever wondered what it felt like to be literal crap. He knew Pidge was mad at him, or distrustful of him, or whatever, but… had he done something to make her actively _hate_ him? “I mean, if you’re not busy…”

“I am, actually. I need to finish this before tomorrow, and I don’t need you here…” Pidge made a shooing motion with her hand, still facing away from him.”…distracting me.”

“Y-yeah, sure…” He flipped his hood back up, hand scrubbing across his eyes as he headed out of the hangar. This had been a stupid idea. Stupid Blue. Stupid Lion giving Stupid Suggestions to Stupid Lovesick Lance.

His feet were already taking him back towards the personnel quarters. That was perfect. He could hide in his room until dinner. His smile would be back up in two vargas easy. Maybe Keith was on to something; avoiding everyone else on the ship was an easy way to avoid getting your heart pulverized.

He stepped into the lift and leaned onto the back wall, sniffling as the doors closed… And immediately swiped the back of his sleeve over his face when the car began slowing. Lance kept his gaze focused on his shoes, hoping the hood would hide some of the ugly flush in his cheeks. He might not be presentable, but at least he wasn’t actively teary as the doors slid open.

A familiar pair of pink flats stepped into his field of vision, as two perfectly manicured hands settled on his shoulders. “Lance! There you are. How are you?” 

He let a slow breath out through his nose, pulling his face into the brightest smile he could manage. It was hard not to falter in the face of that brilliant enthusiasm, but he managed. “I'm... alright, Allura."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took some major liberties this chapter - and will next chapter - with the behaviour of the lions. I know they don't tend to move unless someone is in danger, but I also think that, maybe, they're get more responsive in one-on-one situations over time. Plus, I can't shake the feeling that they kind of run on Toy Story rules, and could move in front of their paladins more if they really wanted to.


	8. Even If

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paladins are such silly little things. Just ask their lionesses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize that, yes, there are lots of species of lion with non-maned males. I, however, also headcanon all the lions as variously female, or at least am going to anthropomorphise (gynopomorphise?) them as such. (For more on the lioness headcanon, see the notes at the end of the chapter.)
> 
> I tried to encapsulate the way the lionesses communicate with feelings and images as best I could in a written work. A few notes about that at the end, too, if you like.
> 
> As ever, I'm super encouraged by feedback, even if it's (nicely worded) notes about typos in this un-beta'd fic.

Vargas had passed since the paladins had slipped out of the main hall. Allura had gone first – claiming she wanted a spa night before bed – and dragged a protesting Lance behind her. Hunk had followed Pidge to neaten up the hangar, then joined Coran in insisting that they’d all earned milkshakes and a good night’s sleep. Keith had prodded Shiro to spar with him, but made due with demolishing a few training bots and practicing with his blade.

Ticks slipped by, and, one after another, the residents of the Castle of Lions tucked into their bunks. The ship had long since transitioned into its night cycle, but it hadn’t been quiet – well and truly at rest – until the black paladin had finally dozed off, tablet in hand, three vargas before the artificial dawn.

In the soft twilight glow of the hangar, Blue sat up on her haunches. She sent a metaphysical nudge to her littlest sister; felt a dozy brush of recognition in return.

Despite their usual physical distance, even when all five of them were together1, she was still very close with Green. Among all of them, the little one was certainly easy to be with. Yellow wasn’t unpleasant, but she was placating, cautious, and _so_ overprotective. Red was fine enough, but there would be roughness for some time between them. Red could have taken the new paladin, instead of _hers_. And Black – she cast a cautious eye towards their center – was still recovering. Even with her paladin returned, the largest lioness was still… off. 2

As if sensing her apprehension, Green blinked slowly back, broadcasting trepidation tinged with concern. _**Quietly… Sleeping…** _ Then a wash of mild anger, images of her paladin. **_Painful..?_**

Blue chuffed softly, head tilting down. **_Silly… Distracted…_** She couldn’t blame her paladin entirely. His constant sounds were little more than nonsense to her, yet the words of his heart were easily read. With a soft push, she made sure her sister knew them as well. _**Yours… Distracting…** _

The other lioness’ ire was like thorns within her. **_Yours..!_ ** Green turned her head, now looking back at the larger lioness to her right. A jumble of images of the smallest paladin, floating on a steady pulse of malice, swirled past. ** _Lonely… Angry..._**

Her jaw opening slightly, Blue turned her head fully, eyes bright. This was not only _her_ paladin’s fault. _**Pining… Betrayed… Confused..!**_ Visions of her own charge filled her mind. Her tail twitched, just slightly, against the hangar floor.

**_STUPID..!_ **

The force against her psyche was like a slap. Images of their paladins, themselves, their whole, ricocheted through their thoughts, frustration and disappointment buffeting them both.

Blue turned with her sister to look between them.

The black lioness sat as she often did, upright and imposing, but with her large amber eyes glowing dimly. While the level had subsided, there was still a parental chiding in her tone. **_Stupid… Dangerous… Discordant…_** Their center inclined her head just slightly toward Blue, the soft concern evident despite the residual annoyance. _**Injured...**_

 ** _Accidental..!_** Did it truly matter if she was alright?

Black rumbled, hinting at her willingness to roar.3 **_INJURED..!_** _ **… … worried…** _

Blue answered with a chuffing hiss, but lowered her tail, laying with her head on her paws. Her pilot was kind, and it had been an accident. The bay echoed slightly as Green followed suit. Only the black lioness stayed upright.

Green’s presence faded slowly from them, until her eyes blinked out and she was gone. The blue lioness, herself, was just slipping away when the delicate nudge came from their heart.

Images of her _other_ paladin slipped past, as Blue felt the subtle questions. **_Different..? Safe_ _r_ _..?_ 4**

That was partially true, but she had only just gotten him back. Certainly Black could understand what it was to lose one? Yes, she could be accepting, but why allow Green to be picky? Why change hers? Blue didn't try to collect or organize those thoughts, only answering with a jumble of pain and confusion.

The black lioness replied, quiet, but firm. **_Yours. OURS. Alone. TOGETHER._ ** She was caring, pacifying, unyielding, reminding what they all risked. Amid the rush of visions, the Defender stood, like a lighthouse on the sea.

Blue couldn't argue with that, no matter how she might try. Her being was lesser without that connection to – and cohesion _with_ – her sisters. This moment strained that. Not to breaking; not yet, but… But…

She conceded,though her last reply was mournful. **_Together…_** She would allow it, if she must. **_Different..._ ** Blue drifted back down, reaching a last moment to check on her paladin - **_Calm... Sleeping..._** \- before she, too slipped away.

Black rumbled, silver jaw working open, then closed. Her eyes flared brightly before blinking out, leaving darkness in the bay as she turned her gaze inward.

One the other end of the castleship, still clutching his tablet, the black paladin startled awake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 - Separately, the hangar shots always show at least Black, if not also Red, between Blue and Green in their lioness forms. As Voltron, the two are literally opposite each other on the body. So alone (in the hangar) or together, they're not _physically proximal_ very often.
> 
> 2 - Yes, canon compliant to this point. It doesn't matter too much, but it needed to be noted that Black and her paladin were off for this chapter.
> 
> 3 - Pretty sure Black's version of 'mom voice' is just roaring until everyone shuts up.
> 
> 4 - Was she a safer pilot/paladin in general? No idea. But Allura would seem less volatile than Lance at the moment. And, yes, Blue is playing favourites in this story.
> 
> Okay, on to lioness headcanons.  
>  **Lionesses as Sisters** : Having been 'born' from the same metal and quintessence, the notion of them as sisters seems to fit. In terms of sibling order, Black is the "oldest" or at least the most like a prototypical first child (e.g.: I'm in charge, I know what I'm doing, this is for your own good, etc.). Yellow is second, Blue third, then Red, and lastly Green.
> 
>  **Green is Small** : Black is clearly the biggest. Blue and Yellow are the same size, but Green is slightly smaller than Red. Only enough the the other lionesses to comment on, really. Green just _feels_ like she _should_ be smaller (slimmer) than Red. At least to me.
> 
>  **Talking** : As mentioned earlier, I had a lot of trouble figuring out how to have the lionesses _speak_ , mostly because they seem to relate to their pilots through through emotional connections and images, but without words. Because of this, I conceptualize their speech as a series of images and adjectives. Plus, I can't help believing that sentient robot space-cats have moved beyond the need for our weaksauce communication methods. At the same time, though, I think that they really _can't_ understand their paladin's words if there isn't an accompanying strong emotion.
> 
> So, yeah, thanks for reading this far. I'm pretty sure this note section is nearly as long as the chapter, but thank you for reading!


	9. Getting Nowhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith notices something is off with Pidge, but he's not so dumb as to call her out.

Shiro had finally fallen asleep – in _Keith’s_ bed – only to jolt awake and head out for a jog through the hallways before the castle lights came on. The recently reinstated Red Paladin rolled his eyes. Even _he_ wasn’t crazy enough to recover from insomnia by running. Shiro would be lucky to stay conscious through their morning meeting.

Keith of course, had done the sensible thing. He’d lain in the warm place Shiro had left on the bed for half a varga, and _then_ decided to get up, grab his bag, and go train.

Usually, the castle rec and practice area was his pre-breakfast oasis, a place to prep himself for the day and clear out any lingering drowsiness. This morning, though, it seemed someone had beaten him there. And, by the sound of their punches – none of which had a hollow ring to them – it wasn’t Shiro. Keith leaned to look through the open door.

Headphones on, hair caught up in a green headband, wearing shorts and what had to be one of Hunk’s tanks over her bra, Pidge seemed to be doing her level best to actually kill the punching bag. Or, at least, to make it regret ever being sewn.

Well, this was… weird. The green paladin trained with the rest of the team, but – unlike Shiro, himself, or even Allura – she rarely put in her own time on it. Maybe she’d do extra cardio, or practice on some of the balancing equipment, but training that was this combat oriented? Never happened. Stepping through the door, he wasn’t sure whether to ask, or just intervene. “Pidge.”

She paused to look at him and lift her brows in acknowledgment. The bag, however, had only a momentary reprieve before she started back up.

Okay, this was now both weird and, probably, very bad. Pidge was purposely ignoring him, and – possibly worse – her form was off. Keith strode past her to catch the bag from behind. He steadied it through her next few punches, until she finally leaned, huffing, against the other side. “You’re gonna break ‘em like that.”

“What?!” Her voice was over-loud in his ears. She must have seen him wince, because she slid the headphones to rest on her neck. “Sorry. What?”

“I said ‘you’re going to break them.’” He reached out, grasping her wrist and tugging her behind him. He had some extra wrapping tape in his locker. That would do a little to keep her from putting herself out of commission.

For her part, Pidge didn’t exactly seem eager to follow him. “You wail on this thing all the time.”

Keith couldn’t stop the exasperation leeching into his tone. “I meant your hands… Sit down.” He released her hand and nodded over his shoulder to the bench. Retrieving the bandages he used to wrap his own hands, along the with a set of sparring mitts, he joined Pidge on the bench. “Lemme see ’em.”

The green paladin took another moment to glare – _pout_ more like it – at him before she held out her hands. Keith grasped the left first, gingerly uncurling her fingers. She really was lucky he’d interrupted her; she’d already skinned a few knuckles.

“You should be more careful. Trust me, you don’t want a bunch of broken fingers.” He clicked his tongue, giving her the briefest of disappointed looks. Keith was well acquainted with pushing himself too hard and too far. He knew how good it could feel to vent his frustrations through his fists, but he tried to avoid causing himself real injury. What was the point of being a paladin that couldn’t fight when called? He’d thought Pidge knew better than to do something like this. “Wanna talk?”

“No.” Pidge stood, making a beeline out of the locker room.

Keith slipped around her, leaning beside the doorway, not quite blocking it. “Wanna spar-”

She rounded on him, head near colliding with his chin. “I don’t think punching a skinny bot is gonna make me feel better, Keith.”

“- with me?” If it had been any of the others, he would have left and joined Shiro on his run, but... Pidge didn’t _get_ like this; not without having a good reason. He hadn’t seen her this on edge since they’d been tracking Matt down.

Hazel eyes met his, filled weariness and something else behind her glasses. She offered a one-shouldered shrug, slipping off her headphones. They landed on the floor, clattering next to her battered, earth-tech phone. “… Yeah… yeah, okay.”

For the next varga, Pidge seemed to throw herself, on some levels quite _literally_ , into their training. He had to admit it; she’d improved since the last time they’d been combat partners. Or, more accurately, the power behind her strikes had increased. She was clearly frustrated, and definitely not focused, so the added force didn’t actually _add_ much. Keith had little trouble defending against her uncontrolled, aimless flailing.

It was only as she overshot her last hook, tumbling forward onto the mat, that he finally stopped their bout. He left her to right herself. Dropping the mitts beside his bag, he dug through until he found on of the pouch drinks he’d snagged from Coran. Tossing it back to her, he grabbed a second for himself.

By the time he rejoined her, she was already halfway through the drink. Keith leaned into the wall, trying to stay casual. “Is this about Lance?”

From her spot on the floor, Pidge glared at his shoes. “Do you want me to lie to you, or do you want to stay friends?”

“Pidge...” One thing he’d picked up from his time as the black paladin was a properly chastizing tone, “what are you two fighting about this time?”

She didn’t meet his eyes. “We're...” Pidge seemed to lose her train of thought for a time, then shook her head. “It’s nothing… we’re not fighting…”

Keith was pretty sure _that_ was a load of bullshit. If they weren't fighting, then why was Pidge angry all the time when Lance was around? Why did Lance look like he was going to throw up or burst into tears at any minute? Why were they circling each other like-!

It clicked together in Keith’s brain. He'd seen this before. He’d _lived_ this before. With Shiro. But... If Pidge was lashing out, then that meant Lance was moping around like a clueless idiot... No wonder he and Shiro got along so well sometimes. Still, this could change the whole dynamic of the team. He’d have to be careful with his words, but he could give them a _little_ nudge. It would save a lot of hassle…

Keith glanced down to where Pidge was still glaring at the floor. No, he had to let this run its course. They’d figure it out eventually. There was no reason to push them into it when they weren’t ready. Hoisting his bag, Keith headed for the showers. “Yeah, okay. See you at breakfast?” If she didn’t seem calmer by then, he _might_ mention it to Shiro. Of course, maybe his lover had already noticed. He cast a last look back at her.

Pidge already had her headphones back on. “Yeah… Later!” She gave him a minimal wave as she started thumbing back through something on her phone.

The sound of fists against a bag had resumed even before Keith had gotten a towel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, no real notes on this. Hope you enjoyed the blatant Sheith drop at the end. Not sure if space punching bags have seams, but maybe it's modeled on an Earth one. Yes, Pidge has her phone in space. What self-respecting teens spring a government prisoner and jump the planet without their mobiles?


	10. Sit Around Getting Older

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of these quintants, Coran will have a quiet night.

The trouble started – as many things did – when he was reviewing the evening’s console access data. Every few quintants, the castle’s systems needed to recalibrate to account for their relativistic and quantum entanglements, particularly when they’d been making use of the teleduv. This, of course, was best done when the system wasn’t otherwise busy; no point impeding critical functions to run boring maintenance, after all. A smidge of a draw in one sector or another certainly wouldn’t slow the process, but he liked to keep abreast of the goings on within the ship he stewarded.

Had the usage indicator cut out before he finished, Coran would have thought nothing of it. But when the full system update had finished – and after he’d personally walked every inch of the ship’s main rooms – he was put out to find the star chart repository was still in use.

He’d given his moustache an exasperated tug, fully prepared to bustle their resident black paladin off to bed. The sound of Earth music echoing in the hall had given him pause. The sight of a slimmer figure in a blue robe had been positively startling. Best tread lightly, then.

Coran slipped into the room, waiting until he was just behind the young Earther before he spoke. “Why, hullo, there, young Lance. How are we this evening?”

“Great, Coran! Couldn’t be better.” Lance startled where he sat, feet dangling over the rail, quickly lowering the volume of the playback. He flicked a tepid smile at the older man before returning to the quadrant map he’d projected over the rest of the room. “Just up here watching the stars, ya know?”

Coran did know. He knew especially well what that kind of smile meant. He had plastered on a smile and a jolly, supportive affect enough over the years – for Alfor when he lost his wife; for Allura when they lost their home – that he knew, quite easily, that Lance was lying.

Normally, he might have just prodded around the edge of the boy’s insecurities, testing the waters to see if it was a something important or something that might be left alone. But  _normally_ his shift on night rounds meant, at worst, running into Keith as he trailed a somnambulant Shiro through the corridors. And  _normally_ Lance wasn’t awake, alone in a room far removed from his own, looking like he’d just been told his favourite pet condiox had been flushed down the commode.

“Lance, you know you can be honest with me, yes?” Coran settled his hand on the young man’s shoulder. “I may have a good number of decapheobs in my snood, but that just gives me a bit of insight, hmm? I’m here to listen if you need it.”

The blue paladin nodded, but his smile seemed a bit more real this time. “You’re really good at that reassuring dad-voice, Coran.”

"Oh, yes, well. Old habits and all that, eh?” He couldn’t help the little sigh  _those_ memories pulled from him. Still, these paladins had, in their odd ways, given him the proverbial chance to do better. Coran wasn’t going to let that pass him by, especially not when one of them was in such clear need of guidance  . “You remind me of my youngest. Headstrong. Passionate. Not nearly so handsome, but I’m sure if  _I_ was your father you would have been.”

The boy chuckled weakly, and Coran smiled beneath his whiskers. He’d always gotten on well with this young human, since he’d first returned in Blue to the ship, really. Lance was a good lad, even if he did tend to set people's nubblies ruffling.

Coran settled himself next to the young paladin, letting his feet dangle over the side beneath the rail, not so close as to touch, but near enough to offer a bit of comfort. "So…"

“I’m just… dealing with some stuff." Lance hugged his knee in to his chest, resting his chin on it.

“Mmmm…” The Altean advisor made a comforting noise as he nodded. This was going to be a difficult night, if _that_ was all the detail he was going to get. It was further proof that Lance, who could weave a grandiose tale from the most mundane events, was not his usual self. Coran pretended to focus his gaze on the rotating star chart, only watching Lance from the corner of his eye. “Stuff, eh? That can be difficult.”

Lance turned to actually look at him, though he only hugged his leg in closer. “I didn’t even tell you what it was.”

“No, but..." Coran met his gaze directly, keeping his voice purposely light, though he couldn’t quite force the smile up to his eyes. "...if it wasn’t difficult you would be in bed, now wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah…” The blue paladin looked away, eyes cast down to his feet, bare – for once – of his lion slippers. “Coran, how do you talk to somebody you like?”

“Well,” His response was accompanied by a rather lengthy moustache twirl. He drew his hand up to his chin, resting his elbow in his other palm. “Usually something like this works, I find. Just sitting and sharing words, hmm?”

Lance shook his head. “No, I mean someone you  _like_ , like that…”

“Ahhh… I see...” It took every bit of effort he could muster not to just shout out to the lad that Coran knew _exactly_ what he meant, but Lance needed patience right now. “Well, I've found that, in such cases, the word trick still tends to work pretty well. As I recall, you’re a rather capital wordsmith, Lance. I don’t think you’ll have any cause for concern.”

“What if they- How do you prepare for getting rejected?”

“Mmmm, yes, well… There’s not too much you _can_ do, in that case.  Still...” He thought there was little cause for concern. It was quite obvious, to any being of even minimal observatory skills, who was the cause of the blue paladin’s concerns.

He could have mentioned the way the blue and green paladins had been circling each other like nervous myrisils for weeks. How they were always checking for the other on entering a room, and how they both got surprisingly distracted by each other’s conversation. But Lance seemed to have enough on his mind for one night night; or, more accurately, morning. One good shock per day was plenty enough.  Coran clapped a hand on his leg, nodding emphatically. “Still, I think you should try talking with her, hmm?”

Standing, feeling the bones in his spine shift and pop, the Altean stretched up onto his toes, then swung down into a deep lunge. He was too  _old_ to be traipsing around this enormous ship all night.

Lance was still on the floor, looking somewhat agog as her sputtered,  “How do you know this  _stuff_ is about a  _her_ ?”

Coran only shrugged in answer, pulling a slightly sneaky grin beneath his moustache  as he stepped out into the hall . “Just trust an old Altean's feeling, hmm?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See? Coran can be terribly circumspect when he wishes.


	11. Gimme Just One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pidge hits the end of her patience and stops pulling her punches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to Pidge's POV for this chapter. I know this fic seems to just keep going, but it's nearing the end.

Pidge and Lance had just landed in Green. Allura was still on the bridge, but Keith hadn’t had anything to do, other than  _another_ round of training, so he’d come down to help them unload. Given the screeching that had echoed through the castle when they came in, the landing had gone badly, and they might need help. 

He could hear what sounded like talking as he pressed his palm to the door panel. That was probably a bad sign. The blue and green paladins might be getting on his nerves recently – on everyone’s, really – but he still wanted to make sure they were alright. The door slid silently to the side, and, even with the whole bay between them, he could hear the conversation clearly. Not because his hearing was Galra-enhanced, either. 

“I’m not a child, Pidge! Or an idiot!”

Quiznack! That was a  _very_ bad sign. Keith backpedaled his way out of the bay just as Rover whizzed into the room past his head.

This was the third team mission Lance and Pidge had been on in eight quintats, and their arguments were getting worse after each one. He knew better than to try to break them up at this point. If Shiro and Hunk were both busy – and they currently were, out on their own mission in another section of the quadrant – the best thing to do was just avoid them until it blew over. Keith slipped silently back down the hallway, moving as quickly as he could to get away from whatever  _that_ was about to become. He was so lucky Shiro wasn’t their flavour of crazy.

\\-/-\\-/

“I’m not a child, Pidge! Or an idiot!”

She could hear him stamping down out of Green’s mouth. “Really? Could’ve fooled me!”

It wasn’t his fault, really; Lance was just a flirt. When it was only a once in a while thing, she could handle it. Sometimes, when it helped, she might even admit that his flirting offered them a tactical advantage over the Galra. Who needed force when the draw of the blue paladin’s smile was enough to sway alien royalty, right?

That’s what she’d tried to tell herself, but these missions back-to-back were grating on her last nerve. Every wink, every grin, every lame-ass garbage pick-up line that came out of the Cuban’s mouth was one more bit of attention aimed at someone that wasn’t her. One more reminder that she wasn’t worth being with, even in jest. She wasn’t even a blip on Lance’s radar, and – Quiznak! – even Keith had made it onto that list once or twice just  _this_ week!  _Coran_ had been on the receiving end of Lance’s game. Sure, they’d been trying out pickup lines on each other before going planet-side on one of the red-haired Altean’s old haunts, but still… Lance could have practiced his flirting on her and gotten better feedback than he got from Coran. She actually wanted it!

She had been better able to hide the hard set of her jaw, to mask the snap in her words, during the mission. Bless Altean tech and the ability to turn-up the opacity on her helmet visor. After, though…

She’d had one of her worst take-offs ever, her concentration in tatters. Green had been a nagging presence in the back of her mind the whole flight, and the landing in her bay had been awful. Pidge had been surprised that the lion hadn’t managed to spit them both out in disgust once her metal paws touched down. She probably shouldn’t have called him out for being too skinny to be worth their host’s time. They had been snarking back and forth the whole flight, even as she took her hands off the controls and huffed her way out of Green’s mouth and onto the catwalk.

Something clattered behind her, skittering across the floor. “I’m serious, Pidge. Hey! Stop a minute and answer me!”

“What?! What do you… want..?” She had rounded on him, prepared to give him a shove just to get him away from her. She had not expected Lance to be this close, with his weapons belt and chest plate off, purposely tightening his abs as he pointed at them through the thin material of his black under-suit.

His voice was serious, demanding. “Tell me to my face that I look scrawny!”

“Just put your armor back on, Lance!” Pidge raised her hand and shoved him anyway, only to be filled with near instant regret. Her hand was touching Lance. Well, not really touching on his skin, but the bodysuits beneath their armor were fitted like they had been painted on, with nothing left to the imagination. She froze, trying to ignore the twitch of muscle beneath her hand and the scream of blood rushing to her face.

Lance was, as usual, not helping. He grasped her hand, holding it there as if he actually wanted her to touch him. Which, of course, he didn’t. He couldn’t. His grip was barely there, but he hadn’t let go yet. “Nu-uh, Pidge. Not until you admit that I’m not just nobbly elbows!.”

Right. Lance was prickly about his appearance. She had hit a nerve, and this was just him trying to soothe his ego; nothing overtly meaningful in it. She could play this game. Just act like she didn’t give a shit long enough, and he’d leave her alone. He didn’t need to know she wanted to say these things and mean it. Really, disturbingly, wanted.

Pidge kept her voice as bored and monotonous as she could, heaping on the sarcasm just to get it over with. “Yes, Lance, you are truly the paragon of paladin perfection. The universe’s most perfect example of the male form. I fight every minute not to swoon. Oh. Mercy.”

She haphazardly fanned at her face with her free hand. Hopefully, he would interpret the way her eyes slid to the side as indifference, and not read too much into the accompanying blush she could feel creeping up her neck.

“Now I know you don’t mean it…” He sighed, sounding almost disgusted, but at least he released her hand. When he arched back against the guardrail at the edge of the platform, she hated herself for staring as that undershirt pulled taught. “We both know that Shiro is better built than I am. I swear, that guy makes me so jealous. Like what did he even eat to get that big?”

Pidge’s tongue decided that, given her brain’s current distraction, it was going to steer the conversation. By the time she realized what she was saying, it was already bouncing off the hangar walls in a shrill, warbling echo. “Yeah, but you look pretty good, too...”

“You think so?” Any other human would have gotten whiplash, or at least thrown their back out, bouncing up that quickly, but not Lance. He perked up immediately, grabbing his armor and striding past her toward the bay doors. “Wait until I tell Hunk that you think I’m one step below Shiro on the human Scoville scale for _hot_ ness.”

“Don’t!” It was her turn to do the grabbing, fingers catching on his upper arm.

“What?” His soft chuckle might have been someone scraping a metal fork across a steel pan; she felt almost sick. “C’mon, Pidge, it’s just joking, and we’re all friends, right? He’ll laugh.”

He was turning around to look at her, and if he did she would just break. She had held this all in for so long, and one more placating, happy,  _friendly_ smile just might crack her façade beyond repair. Pidge made a fist, giving his elbow a hard whack for emphasis. “Fucking don’t!” 

“Pidge?” He sounded hurt? Well, of course he did. She had hit him, after all, because he deserved it. Because he was the reason she couldn’t get any peace even in her own brain. Because he was reaching for her, gently, like she might bolt, and laying his hand on her shoulder. “Pidge, hey, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to… I won’t say anyt-”

“I’ve got work to do.” She couldn’t handle his empathy. Not when he was the reason she was this on edge. But she could handle angry and busy. Pidge slapped his hand away and schooled her face into a scowl to hide the quiver of her lip. She muscled past him on the narrow walkway, purposely shoving at him with her shoulder guard so that he was thrown into the rail. 

“Oh.” There was that tone, again, like he was a puppy she had just kicked. “You, uh… You want some help?”

“How many times do I have to say it? I don’t want _any_ help from _you!_ None from you!” Pidge was being meaner than necessary, and she knew it.  Lance didn’t deserve this. But he’d had made her feel rejected and angry. And then he’d made her feel guilty and confused just moments later. He had made her hurt, and she was going to return the feeling because she could. “Come on Rover.” 

It was petty and cruel, and, as she stormed out of the hangar, she could almost pretend she didn’t care. Almost.


	12. Baby, I Just Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro is a man of finite patience.

Shiro jolted awake for the third time that night, this time as Keith pulled out one of the pillows he had tucked behind himself to sit up in bed. “I was using that to prop myself up.”

“No,” came the sleepy growl from somewhere near his hip. “Your fake Galran arm was using that to prop _it_ self up.”

He was too tired to glare at the back of Keith’s head, so he settled for pressing his palm against it. Shiro pushed Keith’s face into his own side. Not hard enough to _actually_ smother him, but just enough to be annoying. Much like Keith had decided to be for apparently no reason tonight. “Yeah, because my _fake_ arm is attached to my very _real_ shoulder. Give it back.”

“I need it more.” Keith whined, clutching the pillow. “You were asleep...”

“And now I’m not.” Shiro dropped his pitch, letting his tone venture into guilt inducing. “And didn’t you say I needed rest?”

Keith let out what was almost a growl, sitting up beside him, and shoved the pillow up into his face.

Shiro took his time to lean forward, get comfortable, again, and tuck the pillow back down. Satisfied, he lifted his arm, nodding to Keith. “Come here.”

Keith curled in against him, throwing a pale limb over his waist. That light hold tightened as Shiro lowered his arm, setting Keith grumbling, again. “Cold…”

He thought about mentioning that Keith had his own room with his own bed, if that was going to be a problem, but Keith was already tugging the blankets up beneath his chin. With their conversation now apparently over, Shiro reached for the tablet he kept at his bedside.

Whether he was alone or not, he hadn’t slept too well since getting back. Or before getting back. Really, he hadn’t slept well since leaving Earth. But he would sleep better knowing that Keith was resting. Until then, he could catch up on the myriad changes while he’d been absent. There were new alliances, shifts in the Galran ranks and loyalties, even updates to Voltron itself, all of which he’d missed during his absence.It wasn’t exactly pleasant bedtime reading, not by a long shot, but it was necessary. And even the battle and casualty data, however depressing, was less unpleasant than some of what he saw when he closed his eyes.

He thumbed open one of Hunk’s logs on an update to the transfunctioner throughput system; this was sure to put him back under. He loved being a pilot, but this sort of thing was the reason why he was so glad they’d had people like Pidge and Hunk back at the garrison. Maintenance was necessary, not enjoyable.

Shiro’s brain was slowly stepping down into unconsciousness when he felt, as much as heard, Keith mumble into his chest. “Thanks for not being a disaster boyfriend.”

Lifting the tablet, he looked down, meeting sleepy purple eyes. Shiro set the reader on the nightstand, running his fingers through a snuggle-rumpled mullet. “You’re welcome, but… What brought that on?”

“Have you _seen_ how bad Pidge and Lance are getting?”

He had. Through his connection to their lions via Black, he had seen _and_ felt it for a while now. Had known about it from the moment he got back, to tell the truth.

Usually if something was off, he could get a better feel of what it was, but not this time. Blue and Green had never been open about sharing information on their pilots the way the Red had. No surprise, there, but it made focusing for the formation of Voltron more difficult when Lance or Pidge was off. With at least one, if not both, of them being slightly out of sync these days, he had to address it soon. “Yes. But what does that have to do with me being an awesome boyfriend?”

“You cannot tell me _you_ didn’t notice!” Keith’s face had morphed into a scowl Shiro rarely ever received, jaw set as he ground out, “We both know I’m shit at relationship cues and _I_ noticed.”

“Of course, I’ve noticed the tension between them.” He’d shared as much at the last strategy meeting with Allura. The Princess had insisted that their current team divisions were acceptable, but Shiro knew better. The teams needed to be rearranged as soon as possible. “I’ll have a chat with Allura about switching up our mission teams next time. Give them some space.”

“It’s not the _teams_... it’s them being… _together…_ together _that_ way… like _us_..?”  

Shiro set his tablet down with a sigh. “Keith, they’re not…” It wouldn’t have made any sense for the _those_ two to be involved. They were just being immature, snipping at each other over little things. And big things, given the way Lance had started giving the green paladin a wide berth. Or the way she had taken to locking eyes with Lance before stalking out of the room, or shifting the conversation to a topic sure to cut out the blue paladin.

Katie seemed to be spending an awful lot of time avoiding her teammate, but… Damnit, she wasn’t a kid, anymore. She was a member of his team, a fellow paladin, and he couldn’t lapse back into protective-pseudo-brother mode. Little Katie Holt had grown up, and he needed to remember that. Needed to remember a _lot_ of things, at the moment.

Plus, even if she had moved to considering him more as a friend than a brother-figure, Katie would have come to him if she’d had a problem. She might be Pidge to everyone out here, but he had a protective streak about the youngest Holt, and _he_ called her Katie. Not that he usually did, but – for goodness’ sake – he remembered her with _braces_. Sure, he hadn’t been back for very _long_ , but he had known her longer than just about anyone that wasn’t her actually family. Certainly longer than anyone else on the ship.

“ Keith, if there was a problem... if it was that serious, I think K- _Pidge_ would have come to me about it.”

“Shiro, I’m serious.”

“She really sat down and talked about this with you?” Shiro hadn't planned it to come of quite so incredulously.

Keith shrugged, brows drawing down, probably because of his tone. “Not exactly. She beat me to the training room and we talked… and I promised not to say anything, but you didn't...”

Keith trailed off, and silence hung in the air between them for a few moments. Shiro took a deep breath, and his lover curled closer against him with a sleepy sigh.  “You should talk to them.”

He flipped up the hair covering Keith’s eyes, fighting back a smirk. He could be so stubborn about these sorts of things, even when he didn’t need to be. “Neither of them has really mentioned anything to me, Keith, so maybe you should-”

Keith cut him off. “Are you reinstating me as black paladin? Am I the head, again?”

“No.” What did that have to do with any of this?

“Then no. It's the head's job to keep the team together, and I'm just the right arm. So, as _not_ the leader of Voltron, it is _not_ my job to talk to them.” Keith closed his eyes and huffed, snuggling his face down against Shiro’s chest, content in his victory. He even pretended to ignore Shiro’s muttering about damned juvenile idiots as he flicked off the light.

Shiro sighed. It really _was_ his job, but was he ever getting sick of having to play the adult all the time. Still, if Keith was right, there were a few cards he could pull that ought to get things at least moving forward. He’d just have to hope that neither Lance nor Pidge called his bluff.


	13. Your Little Word

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allura refuses to let Lance wallow in his misery, even if she only adds to his confusion.

This was ridiculous, and she had had enough. She had neither the energy or the time to handle these constant spats. She still didn't understand why she couldn't just inform them of their mutual feelings, but she had promised Hunk…

And _that_ had been a mistake. Allura was mere ticks away from disregarding Hunk's request for discretion and locking the two of them into the lift. How two such capable paladins would be so _utterly_ inept with regard to their own feelings was beyond her.

Allura, however, needed her paladins to trust her, and Hunk _had_ come to her in confidence. It was best not to break faith with him, she thought. Revealing their secret mutual affection might solve the problem of the moment, but give Lance or Pidge pause when asked to trust her so easily in the future. Even a discussion with Coran was out of the question; she trusted him in all things, but a promise was a promise.

Her attempts to get Lance to open up to her previously had failed, miserably. Each time, he'd shifted the conversation – so artfully that she'd wondered if he wasn't secretly a politician, or Altean himself – leaving them with banal discussions that achieved nothing. There was ample evidence he had no intention of facing this, or even speaking about it directly with her.

Still, after yesterday, Allura couldn't simply let this be. She had only just managed to find Coran and Keith, and the three had made a few hasty arrangements to paper over the damage done when the green lion had landed. She could at least keep Shiro and poor Hunk from further concern. He surrogate uncle had been circumspect enough not to ask why, and, for that, she was grateful. The red paladin had simply dissolved into muttered cursing as they worked.

The green and blue paladins had not been much better company for anyone since then. Pidge had vanished until their evening meal, reappearing sweaty and – for her – terribly under-dressed; she’d returned to the training room after gulping down just enough goo to remain stable. Lance had skipped dinner altogether, taking a carafe of tea to his room and citing a – clearly feigned – mission-induced illness.

Now, with Lance having skipped yet another, albeit less formal, meal at breakfast, it seemed the time had come to put her proverbial boot down. Pidge's location wasn't showing up on the castle map, but Lance's was. Who better to find their recalcitrant green paladin than her recent mission partner? And who better to order such a mission than the reigning monarch of the castle?

\\-/-\\-/

She had found Lance in the horticultural dome. He was, disturbingly, still in his pyjamas, with his robe sleeves pushed up past his elbows as he worked. It seemed to her that he had left his room only to milk Kaltenecker; he certainly would have been better dressed if he had expected to meet anyone. He looked maudlin, hair unkempt and with bags under his eyes, and more than a little pathetic in his sadness.

Allura resisted the urge to wrap him into a hug. She needed to be firm. She had offered comfort; now she simply needed results. She strode into the space fully, careful to crunch the grass a bit as she walked. She wanted him to know she was here. “Lance, have you seen Pidge recently?”

He didn’t even raise his head, hands still under the cow. “Yeah, Princess. We just had a mission together…”

“Alri~ight…” Now at his side, she gave Kaltenecker a light pet. Allura let her arm rest across the cow’s back as she looked down onto a head of messy brown hair. “Have you seen Pidge _today_?”

“I saw her yesterday morning when we got back. Rover’s always with her, so she should be easy to find.” He shrugged, shifting on the stool to put more of his back to her.

This. Would. NOT. Do. She stepped around to his other side, purposely setting on leg against his arm. He wouldn’t be able to keep fussing with the cow without literally bumping against her. _That_ ought to show him not to ignore her when she was being helpful. “Mmm... I suppose that _is_ true, but, Lance, I really feel that _you_ should go talk to her.”

“I… I dunno, Princess, she seemed pissed after our mission. I don’t think she wants to talk to me right now.” When his sharp eyes finally met hers, there was doubt, and something infinitely smaller and more broken inside them. “Or, ya know, ever. Hunk might be a better choice.”

She quieted her the empathic yelling in her mind by setting a hand on his shoulder. “Yes, but I think you _should_ go talk with her.”

“I-  Yeah, alright, fine, _princess_... just let me finish up here and put this away? It'd be a shame to waste it, and I promised Coran we’d have ice cream later.”

“How about I take this and go put it in the creaming machine while you go talk to Pidge?” She gave his shoulder a light nudge with her hip.”

“Allura that's- It's called an _ice-cream_ machine.” Lance giggled, just a bit. “Creaming is... something _very_ different.”

“Really?” This might be something, perhaps. A bit of the camaraderie she recalled, before Lance’s smile had started to look so wan. Allura continued. “I heard Hunk muttering about that, though, and he said he was talking about iced-cream.”

“I bet he did… Maybe you should talk to him about it. I'm sure he'd clear things rii~iight up for ya." For a moment, Allura glimpsed the Lance she remembered – bright and joking, and perhaps just a bit crude in his humour – before that shadow fell across his countenance, again.

Allura hated it. She wanted _that_ Lance back. He’d become something of a sibling to her, and their connection through Blue had only enhanced that. She had thought, after a few weeks of gentle nudging – spa days, Altean lessons, Earthen fashion discussions – that he would open up the way he used to about this whole mess. She had, she now knew, thought wrongly.

“I think I will when we meet later, but…" she leaned over him, going up on tiptoe to get the most out of her already impressive height. She tapped the end of his nose with a perfectly manicured nail, eyes sparkling. Lance paled. "…only after you go talk to Pidge."

“Um… Allura.” He gulped, tipping back on the stool. “You’re kinda scaring me...”

She forced her grin a bit wider. A little fear might be just the push that her paladins needed to address their relationship. He didn't need to know that she was purposely shifting the lengths of her legs, extenuating her already considerable height. Her flowing gown disguised that fact, at least. “Am I _kinda_ making you want to go talk to Pidge?”

“You’re making me want to leave the room..?” He squawked in return.

“Good enough!” In the back of her mind, Allura clasped her hands under her chin and laughed. This was turning out _exactly_ as she’d hoped it would. “ Now then, why don’t you leave the room like you want to, and go find the green paladin, hmm?”

“Will you stop… _looming_ at me?”

“Will you go talk to Pidge?” She bent just a bit further over him, legs straining. The exertion was evident in her voice, but, by Lance’s answering tone, it only served to enhance the unsettling effect.

“Fine, sure, yes, bye!”

He was gone before she could answer him, leaving her to relax back against the cow.


End file.
